THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

JOHN  F.  ROSS 


, 

O 


Li 
? 


GEORGIA     SCENES, 


CHARACTERS,  INCIDENTS, 


FIRST  HALF  CENTURY  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 


A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN. 

SECOND   EDITION.     y 

WITH    ORIGINAL    ILLUSTRATION. 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 
329   &   331   PEARL   STREET, 

FRANKLIN    SQtAEE. 

1871. 


interal,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18*0.  by 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS, 
a  the  Clerk's  Office  ol  the  Southern  District  of  New  York 


PREFACE 

TO     THE     FIRST     EDITION. 


THE  following  sketches  were  written  rather  in  the 
hope  that  chance  would  bring  them  to  light  when  time 
would  give  them  an  interest,  than  in  the  belief  that  they 
would  afford  any  interest  to  the  readers  of  the  present 
day.  I  knew,  however,  that  the  chance  of  their  survi 
ving  the  author  would  be  increased  in  proportion  tc 
their  popularity  upon  their  first  appearance  ;  and,  there- 
fore,  I  used  some  little  art  in  order  to  recommend  them 
to  the  readers  of  my  own  times.  They  consist  of  no. 
thing  more  than  fanciful  combinations  of  real  incidents 
and  characters  ;  and  throwing  into  those  scenes,  which 
would  be  otherwise  dull  and  insipid,  some  personal  in 
cident  or  adventure  of  my  own,  real  or  imaginary,  as 
it  would  best  suit  my  purpose  ;  usually  real,  but  happen, 
ing  at  different  times  and  under  different  circumstances 
from  those  in  which  they  are  here  represented.  I  have 
not  always,  however,  taken  this  liberty.  Some  of  the 
scenes  are  as  literally  true  as  the  frailties  of  memorr 
would  allow  them  to  be.  I  commenced  the  publication 
f'e  them,  in  one  of  the  gazettes  of  the  State,  rather 
more  than  a  year  ago  ;  and  I  was  not  more  pleased 
than  astonished  to  find  that  they  were  well  received  by 
readers  generally.  For  the  last  six  months  I  have  been 
importuned  by  persons  from  all  quarters  of  the  State 
•e  frive  them  to  the  public  in  the  present  form.  This 


1569m 


•*  PREFACE. 

volume  is  purely  a  concession  to  their  entreaties 
From  private  considerations,  I  was  extremely  desirous 
of  concealing  the  author,  and,  the  more  effectually  to  do 
so,  I  wrote  under  two  signatures.  These  have  now  be. 
come  too  closely  interwoven  with  the  sketches  to  bo 
separated  from  them,  without  an  expense  of  time  and 
trouble  which  I  am  unwilling  to  incur.  Hall  is  the 
writer  of  those  sketches  in  which  men  appear  as  the 
principal  actors,  and  Baldwin  of  those  in  which  women 
are  the  prominent  figures.  For  the  "  Company  Drill" 
I  aoi  indebted  to  a  friend,  of  whose  labours  I  woulc1 
gladly  have  availed  myself  oftener.  The  reader  wil 
find  in  the  object  of  the  sketches  an  apology  for  the 
minuteness  of  detail  into  which  some  of  them  run,  and 
for  the  introduction  of  some  things  into  them  which 
would  have  been  excluded  were  they  merely  the  crea 
tions  of  fancy. 

I  have  not  had  it  in  my  power  to  superintend  the 
publication  of  them,  though  they  issue  from  a  press  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  my  residence.  I  discovered 
that,  if  the  work  was  delayed  until  I  could  have  an  op- 
portunity  of  examining  the  proof-sheets,  it  would  linger 
in  the  press  until  the  expenses  (already  large)  would 
become  intolerable.  Consequently,  there  may  be  many 
typographical  errors  among  them,  for  which  I  musl 
crave  the  reader's  indulgence. 

I  cannot  conclude  these  introductory  remarks  with, 
out  reminding  those  who  have  taken  exceptions  to  the 
coarse,  inelegant,  and  sometimes  ungrammatical  Ian. 
guage  which  the  writer  represents  himself  as  occasion, 
ally  using,  that  it  is  language  accommodated  to  the  capa- 
city  of  the  person  to  idiom  he  represents  liimsdf  as  speak 
ing.  THE  ACTTHOR 


ROTE     BY     THE     PUBLISHERS. 


IN  justice  to  the  author,  the  publishers  feel  bound  to 
«ate,  that  the  present  edition  of  the  "  Georgia  Scenes" 
ias  been  reprinted  verbatim  from  the  original  edition 
published  at  the  South  several  years  since.  As  yet, 
they  have  been  unable  to  prevail  upon  the  author  to  re 
vise  the  work.  The  urgent  demands  for  a  new  edition 
would  not  admit  of  a  longer  delay.  The  publishers, 
therefore,  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  the  book, 
sellers,  have  printed  a  small  edition  of  the  work  in  its 
present  shape,  hoping  the  author  may  find  it  convenient 
to  revis^  and  extend  the  volume  before  another  edition 
thai,  be  i 


CONTENTS. 


'  f^ 

Dance 9    I 

The  Horse-Swap 12      /* 

A  Native  Georgian 32 

The  Fight 53 

The  Song .65 

The  Turn  Out 73 

The "  Charming  Creature"  a?  a  \A  ife          .        .        .        .  82 

The  Gander  Pulling 110 

The  Ball 119 

The  Mother  and  her  Child  130 

The  Debating  Society 133 

The  Militia  Drill 145 

The  Turf      ...  152 

kn  Interesting  Interview .       .161 

The  Fox  Hunt      ...  166 

The  Wax- Works          .  ...  .  179 

i  Sage  Conversation    .  ...  .  186 

fhe  Shooting.. Match  .  ...  197 


GEORGIA     SCENES,  &c. 


GEORGIA  THEATRICS. 

IF  my  memory  fail  me  not,  the  10th  of  June,  1809 
found  me,  at  about  11  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  ascend, 
ing  a  long  and  gentle  slope  in  what  was  called  "The 
Dark  Corner"  of  Lincoln.  I  believe  it  took  its  name 
from  the  moral  darkness  which  reigned  over  that  por 
tion  of  the  county  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking. 
If  in  this  point  of  view  it  was  but  a  shade  darker  than 
the  rest  of  the  county,  it  was  inconceivably  dark.  If 
any  man  can  name  a  trick  or  sin  which  had  not  been 
committed  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking,  in  the 
very  focus  of  all  the  county's  illumination  (Lincolnton), 
he  must  himself  be  the  most  inventive  of  the  tricky, 
and  the  very  Judas  of  sinners.  Since  that  time,  how- 
ever  (all  humour  aside),  Lincoln  has  become  a  living 
proof  "that  light  shineth  in  darkness."  Could  I  ven. 
ture  to  mingle  the  solemn  with  the  ludicrous,  even  for 
tiie  purposes  of  honourable  contrast,  I  could  adduce 
from  this  county  instances  of  the  most  numerous  and 
wonderful  transitions,  from  vice  and  folly  to  virtue  and 
holiness,  which  have  ever,  perhaps,  been  witnessed  since 
the  days  of  the  apostolic  ministry.  So  much,  lest  it 
should  be  thought  by  some  that  what  I  am  about  to  re 
late  is  characteristic  of  the  county  in  which  it  occurred. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  moral  condition  of  the 
Dark  Corner  at  the  time  just  mentioned,  its  natural 
condition  was  anything  but  dark.  It  smiled  in  all  the 
charms  of  spring ;  and  spring  borrowed  a  new  charm 
from  its  undulating  grounds,  its  luxuriant  woodlands, 
its  sportive  streams,  its  vocal  birds,  and  its  blushing 
flowers. 


10  GEORGIA    THEATRICS. 

Rapt  with  the  enchantment  of  the  season  and  tne 
scenery  around  me,  I  was  slowly  rising  the  sic  ,>e,  when 
I  was  startled  by  loud,  profane,  and  boisterous  voices, 
which  seemed  to  proceed  from  a  thick  covert  of  un. 
dergrowth  about  two  hundred  yards  in  the  advance  of 
me,  and  about  one  hundred  to  the  right  of  my  road. 

"  You  kin,  kin  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  kin,  and  am  able  to  do  it !  Boo-oo-oo  ] 
Oh,  wake  snakes,  and  walk  your  chalks  !  Brimstone 

and  fire !     Don't  hold  me,  Nick  Stoval !     The 

fight's  made  up,  and  let's  go  at  it.     my  soul  if  I 

don't  jump  down  his  throat,  and  gallop  every  chitterling 
out  of  him  before  you  can  say  '  quit !'  " 

•:  Now,  Nick,  don't  hold  him  !     Jist  let  the  wild-cat 
come,  and  I'll  tame  him.     Ned'll  see  me  a  fair  fight 
won't  you,  Ned  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I'll  see  you  a  fair  fight,  blast  my  old  shoes 
if  I  don't." 

"  That's  sufficient,  as  Tom  Haynes  said  when  he 
saw  the  elephant.  Now  let  him  come." 

Thus  they  went  on,  with  countless  oaths  interspersed, 
which  I  dare  not  even  hint  at,  and  with  much  that  1 
could  not  distinctly  hear. 

In  Mercy's  name  !  thought  I,  what  band  of  ruffians 
has  selected  this  holy  season  and  this  heavenly  retreat 
for  such  Pandaemonian  riots !  I  quickened  my  gait, 
and  had  come  nearly  opposite  to  the  thick  grove  whence 
the  noise  proceeded,  when  my  eye  caught  indistinctly, 
and  at  intervals,  through  the  foliage  of  the  dwarf-oaks 
and  hickories  which  intervened,  glimpses  of  a  man  or 
men,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  violent  struggle  ;  and  I 
could  occasionally  catch  those  deep-drawn,  emphatic 
oaths  which  men  in  conflict  utter  when  they  deal  blows. 
I  dismounted,  and  hurried  to  the  spot  with  all  speed. 
I  had  overcome  about  half  thp  space  which  separated 
it  from  me,  when  I  saw  the  combatants  come  to  the 
ground,  and,  after  a  short  struggle,  I  saw  the  uppermost 
one  (for  I  could  not  see  the  other)  make  a  heavy  plunge 
with  both  his  thumbs,  and  at  the  same  instant  I  heard 


GEORGIA   THEATRICS.  11 

ft  cry  in  the  accent   of  keenest  torture,  "  Enough , 
My  eye's  out !" 

I  was  so  completely  horrorstruck,  that  I  stood  trans- 
fixed  for  a  moment  to  the  spot  where  the  cry  met  me. 
The  accomplices  in  the  hellish  deed  which  had  been 
perpetrated  had  all  fled  at  my  approach  ;  at  least  I  sup. 
posed  so,  for  they  were  not  to  be  seen. 

"  Now,  blast  your  corn-shucking  soul,"  said  the  vic 
tor  (a  youth  about  eighteen  years  old)  as  he  rose  from 
the  ground,  "  come  cutt'n  your  shines  'bout  me  agin, 
next  time  I  come  to  the  Courthouse,  will  you  !  Get 
your  owl-eye  in  agin  if  you  can !" 

At  this  moment  he  saw  me  for  the  first  time.  He 
looked  excessively  embarrassed,  and  was  moving  offj 
when  I  called  to  him,  in  a  tone  imboldened  by  the  sa- 
credness  of  my  office  And  the  iniquity  of  his  crime, 
"  Come  back,  you  brute !  and  assist  me  in  relieving 
your  fellow-mortal,  whom  you  have  ruined  for  ever !" 

My  rudeness  subdued  his  embarrassment  in  an  in 
stant  ;  and,  with  a  taunting  curl  of  the  nose,  he  repli 
ed,  "  You  needn't  kick  before  you're  spurr'd.  There 
a'nt  nobody  there,  nor  ha'nt  been  nother.  I  was  jist 
seein'  how  I  could  'a'  font."  So  saying,  he  bounded 
to  his  plough,  which  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  fence 
about  fifty  yards  beyond  the  battle  ground. 

And,  would  you  believe  it,  gentle  reader  !  his  report 
was  true.  All  that  I  had  heard  and  seen  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  Lincoln  rehearsal ;  in  which  the 
youth  who  had  just  left  me  had  played  all  the  parts  of 
all  the  characters  in  a  Courthouse  fight. 

I  went  to  the  ground  from  which  he  had  risen,  and 
there  were  the  prints  of  his  two  thumbs,  plunged  up  to 
the  balls  in  the  mellow  earth,  about  the  distance  of  a 
man's  eyes  apart ;  and  the  ground  around  was  broken 
up  as  if  two  stags  had  been  engaged  upon  it. 

HALL 


THE    DANCE 


THE  DANCE. 

A    PSRSO.NAL   ADVENTURE    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 

SOME  years  ago  I  was  called  by  business  to  one  of 
the  frontier  counties,  then  but  recently  settled.  It  be. 
came  necessary  for  me,  while  there,  to  enlist  the  ser 
vices  of  Thomas  Gibson,  Esq.,  one  of  the  magistrates 
of  the  county,  who  resided  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  my  lodgings ;  and  to  this  circumstance  was  I  in- 

bted  for  my  introduction  to  him.  I  had  made  the  in- 
tended  disposition  of  my  business,  and  was  on  the  eve 
of  my  departure  for  the  city  of  my  residence,  when  1 
was  induced  to  remain  a  day  longer  by  an  invitation 
from  the  squire  to  attend  a  dance  at  his  house  on  the 
following  day.  Having  learned  from  my  landlord  that 
I  would  probably  "  be  expected  at  the  frolic"  about  the 
hour  of  10  in  the  forenoon,  and  being  desirous  of  see 
ing  all  that  passed  upon  the  occasion,  I  went  over  about 
an  hour  before  the  time. 

The  squire's  dwelling  consisted  of  but  one  room, 
which  answered  the  threefold  purpose  of  dining-room, 
bedroom,  and  kitchen.  The  house  was  constructed  of 
logs,  and  the  floor  was  of  puncheons  ;  a  term  which,  in 
Georgia,  means  split  logs,  with  their  faces  a  little 
smoothed  with  the  axe  or  hatchet.  To  gratify  his 
daughters,  Polly  and  Silvy.  the  old  gentleman  and  his 
lady  had  consented  to  camp  out  for  a  day,  arid  to  surren 
der  the  habitation  to  the  girls  and  their  young  friends. 

When  I  reached  there  I  found  all  things  in  readiness 
for  the  promised  amusement.  The  girls,  as  the  old 
gentleman  informed  me,  had  compelled  the-  fanvly  to 
breakfast  under  the  trees,  for  they  had  completely 
stripped  the  house  of  its  furniture  before  the  sun  rose. 
They  were  already  attired  for  the  dance,  in  neat  but 
plain  habiliments  of  their  own  manufacture.  "  What '" 


TiUu    DANCE.  13 

•ays  some  weakly,  sicidy,  delicate,  useless,  affected, 
"  charming  creature"  of  the  city,  "  dressed  for  a  ball 
at  9  in  the  morning  !"  Even  so,  my  delectable  Miss 
Octavia  Matilda  Juliana  Claudia  Ipecacuanha  :  and 
what  have  you  to  say  against  it?  If  people  must 
dance,  is  it  not  much  more  rational  to  employ  the  hour 
allotted  to  exercise  in  that  amusement,  than  the  hours 
sacred  to  repose  and  meditation  ?  And  which  is  en 
titled  to  the  most  credit;  the  young  lady  who  rises 
with  the  dawn,  and  puts  herself  and  whole  house  in  or 
der  for  a  ball  four  hours  before  it  begins,  or  the  one, 
who  requires  a  fortnight  to  get  herself  dressed  for  it ! 

The  squire  and  I  employed  the  interval  in  conver- 
nation  about  the  first  settlement  of  the  country,  in  the 
course  of  which  I  picked  up  some  useful  and  much  in 
teresting  information.  We  were  at  length  interrupted, 
however,  by  the  sound  of  a  violin,  which  proceeded 
from  a  thick  wood  at  my  left.  The  performer  soon 
after  made  his  appearance,  and  proved  to  be  no  othei 
than  Billy  Porter,  a  negro  fellow  of  much  harmless 
wit  and  humour,  who  was  well  known  throughout  the 
state.  Poor  Billy !  "  his  harp  is  now  hung  upon  the 
willow ;"  and  I  would  not  blush  to  offer  a  tear  to  his 
memory,  for  his  name  is  associated  with  some  of  the 
happiest  scenes  of  my  life,  and  he  sleeps  with  many  a 
dear  friend,  who  used  to  join  me  in  provoking  his  wit 
and  in  laughing  at  his  eccentricities  ;  but  I  am  leading 
my  reader  to  the  grave  instead  of  the  dance,  which  1 
promised.  If,  however,  his  memory  reaches  twelve 
years  back,  he  will  excuse  this-«hort  tribute  of  respect 
to  BILLY  PORTER. 

Billy,  to  give  his  own  account  of  himself,  "  had  been 
taking  a  turn  with  the  brethren  (the  Bar)  ;  and,  hear- 
ing  the  ladies  wanted  to  see  pretty  Billy,  had  come  to 
give  them  a  benefit."  The  squire  had  not  seen  him 
before  ;  and  it  is  no  disrespect  to  his  understanding  or 
politeness  to  say,  that  he  found  it  impossible  to  give 
me  his  attention  for  half  an  hour  after  Billy  arrived 
I  had  nothing  to  do,  therefore,  while  the  young  peopla 
were  assembling,  but  to  improve  my  kn  fledge  of 
B 


14  THE   DANCE. 

Billy's  character,  to  the  squire's  amusement.  I  had 
been  thus  engaged  about  thirty  minutes,  when  I  saw 
several  fine,  bouncing,  ruddy-cheeked  girls  descending 
a  hill  about  the  eighth  of  a  mile  off.  They,  too,  were 
attired  in  manufactures  of  their  own  hands.  The  re- 
finements  of  the  present  day  in  female  dress  had  not 
even  reached  our  republican  cities  at  this  time  ;  and, 
of  course,  the  country  girls  were  wholly  ignorant  of 
them.  They  carried  no  more  cloth  upon  their  arms 
or  straw  upon  their  heads  than  was  necessary  to  cover 
them.  They  used  no  artificial  means  of  spreading 
their  frock  tails  to  an  interesting  extent  from  their  an- 
kles.  They  had  no  boards  laced  to  their  breasts,  nor 
any  corsets  laced  to  their  sides ;  consequently,  they 
looked,  for  all  the  world,  like  human  beings,  and  could 
be  distinctly  recognised  as  such  at  the  distance  of  two 
hundred  paces.  Their  movements  were  as  free  and 
active  as  nature  would  permit  them  to  be.  Let  me 
not  be  understood  as  interposing  the  least  objection  to 
any  lady  in  this  land  of  liberty  dressing  just  as  she 
pleases.  If  she  choose  to  lay  her  neck  and  shoulders 
bare,  what  right  have  I  to  look  at  them  ?  much  less  to 
find  fault  with  them.  If  she  choose  to  put  three  yards 
of  muslin  in  a  frock  sleeve,  what  right  have  I  to  ask 
why  a  little  strip  of  it  was  not  put  in  the  body  ?  If  she 
like  the  pattern  of  a  hoisted  umbrella  for  a  frock,  and 
the  shape  of  a  cheese-cask  for  her  body,  what  is  all 
that  to  me  1  But  to  return. 

The  girls  were  met  by  Polly  and  Silvy  Gibson  at 
some  distance  from  the  house,  who  welcomed  them — 
"  with  a  kiss,  of  course" — oh,  no  ;  but  with  something 
much  less  equivocal :  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  and 
smiling  countenances,  which  had  some  meaning. 

[Note. — The  custom  of  kissing,  as  practised  in  these 
days  by  the  amiables,  is  borrowed  from  the  French, 
and  by  them  from  Judas.] 

The  young  ladies  had  generally  collected  before  any 
of  the  young  men  appeared.  It  was  not  long,  howev 
er,  before  a  large  number  of  both  sexes  were  assem 
bled,  and  they  adjourned  to  the  ballroom 


THE    DANCE.  15 

Bui  for  the  snapping  of  a  fiddle-string,  the  young 
people  would  have  been  engaged  in  the  amusement  of 
the  day  in  less  than  three  minutes  from  the  time  they 
entered  the  house.  Here  were  no  formal  introductions 
to  be  given,  no  drawing  for  places  or  partners,  no  pa- 
rade  of  managers,  no  ceremonies.  It  was  perfectly 
understood  that  all  were  invited  to  dance,  and  that  none 
were  invited  who  were  unworthy  to  be  danced  with  ; 
consequently,  no  gentleman  hesitated  to  ask  any  lady 
present  to  dance  with  him,  and  no  lady  refused  to 
dance  with  a  gentleman  merely  because  she  had  not 
been  made  acquainted  with  him. 

In  a  short  time  the  string  was  repaired,  and  off  went 
the  party  to  a  good  old  republican  six  reel.  I  had 
been  thrown  among  fashionables  so  long  that  I  had  al 
most  forgotten  my  native  dance.  But  it  revived  rap 
idly  as  they  wheeled  through  its  mazes,  and  with  it  re- 
turned  many  long-forgotten,  pleasing  recollections. 
Not  only  did  the  reel  return  to  me,  but  the  very  per- 
sons  who  used  to  figure  in  it  with  me,  in  the  heyday 
of  youth. 

Here  was  my  old  sweetheart,  Polly  Jackson,  iden 
tically  personified  in  Polly  Gibson  ;  and  here  was  Jim 
Johnson's,  in  Silvy  ;  and  Bill  Martin's,  in  Nancy  Ware. 
Polly  Gibson  had  my  old  flame's  very  steps  as  well  as 
her  looks.  "  Ah  !"  said  I,  "  squire,  this  puts  me  in 
mind  of  old  times.  I  have  not  seen  a  six  reel  for  five- 
and-twenty  years.  It  recalls  to  my  mind  many  a  hap 
py  hour,  and  many  a  jovial  friend  who  used  to  enliven 
it  with  me.  Your  Polly  looks  so  much  like  my  old 
sweetheart,  Polly  Jackson,  that,  were  I- young  again,  I 
certainly  should  fall  in  love  with  her." 

"  That  was  the  name  of  her  mother,"  said  tho 
*q  lire. 

•;  Where  did  you  marry  her  ?"  inquired  I 

"  In  Wilkes,"  said  he  ;  "  she  was  the  daMghtor  of 
old  Nathan  Jackson,  of  that  county." 

"  It  isn't  possible  !"  returned  I.  "  Then  it  is  the 
very  girl  of  whom  I  am  speaking.  Where  is  she  ? 

"  She's  out  "  said  the  squire,  "  preparing  dinner  for 


16  THE    JJANCE. 

the  young  people  ;  but  she'll  be  in  towards  the  close  ol 
the  day.  But  come  along,  and  I'll  make  you  acquaint 
ed  with  her  at  once,  if  you'll  promise  not  to  run  away 
with  her,  for  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  she's  the  likeliest ga, 
in  all  these  parts  yet." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I'll  promise  not  to  run  away  with 
her,  but  you  must  not  let  her  know  who  I  am.  I  wish 
to  make  myself  known  to  her  ;  and,  for  fear  of  the 
worst,  you  shall  witness  the  introduction.  But  don't 
get  jealous,  squire,  if  she  seems  a  little  too  glad  to  see 
rne  ;  for,  I  assure  you,  we  had  a  strong  notion  of  each 
other  when  we  were  young." 

"  No  danger,"  replied  the  squire  ;  "  she  hadn't  seen 
me  then,  or  she  never  could  have  loved  such  a  hard  fa 
voured  man  as  you  are." 

In  the  mean  time  the  dance  went  on,  and  I  employed 
myself  in  selecting  from  the  party  the  best  examples  of 
the  dancers  of  my  day  and  Mrs.  Gibson's  for  her  en- 
tertainment.  In  this  I  had  not  the  least  difficulty;  for 
the  dancers  before  me  and  those  of  my  day  were  in  ali 
respects  identical. 

Jim  Johnson  kept  up  the  double  shuffle  from  the  be 
ginning  to  the  end  of  the  reel :  and  here  was  Jim 
over  again  in  Sammy  Tant.  Bill  Martin  always  set 
to  his  partner  with  the  same  step  ;  and  a  very  curious 
Btep  it  was.  He  brought  his  right  foot  close  behind  his 
left,  and  with  it  performed  precisely  the  motion  of  the 
thumb  in  cracking  that  insect  which  Burns  has  immor- 
t-?\ized  ;  then  moved  his  right  back,  threw  his  weight 
upon  it,  brought  his  left  behind  it,  and  cracked  with 
that  as  before  ;  and  so  on  alternately.  Just  so  did  Bill 
Kemp,  to  a  nail.  Bob  Simons  danced  for  all  the  world 
like  a  "  Suple  Jack"  (or,  as  we  commonly  call  it,  a 
"  Suple  Sawney"),  when  the  string  is  pulled  with  varied 
force,  at  intervals  of  seconds :  and  so  did  ^aiie  Slack. 
Davy  Moore  went  like  a  suit  of  clothes  upon  a  clothing 
line  on  a  windy  day :  and  here  was  his  antitype  in 
Ned  Clark.  Rhoda  Nobles  swam  through  the  reel  like 
a  cork  on  wavy  waters  ;  always  giving  two  or  three 
pretty  little  perchbite  diddles  as  she  rose  from  a  cou- 


THE    DANCE.  17 

pee  :  Nancy  Ware  was  her  very  self.  Becky  Lewis 
made  a  business  of  dancing  ;  she  disposed  of  her  part 
as  quick  as  possible,  stopped  dead  short  as  soon  as  she 
got  through,  and  looked  as  sober  as  a  judge  all  the 
time  ;  even  so  did  Chloe  Davvson.  I  used  to  tclt  Polly 
Jackson,  that  Becky's  countenance,  when  she  closed  a 
dance,  always  seemed  to  say,  "  Now,  if  you  want  any 
more  dancing,  you  may  do  it  yourself." 

The  dance  grew  men  ier  as  it  progressed  ;  the  young 
people  became  more  easy  in  each  other's  company,  and 
often  enlivened  the  scene  wiih  most  humorous  remarks. 
Occasionally  some  sharp  cuts  passed  between  the  boys, 
such  as  would  have  produced  half  a  dozen  duels  at  a 
city  ball ;  but  here  they  were  taken  as  they  were 
meant,  in  good  humour.  Jim  Johnson  being  a  little 
tardy  in  meeting  his  partner  ai  a  turn  of  the  reel,  "  I 
ax  pardon,  Miss  Chloe,"  said  he,  "  Jake  Slack  went  to 
make  a  crosshop  just  now,  ana  tied  his  legs  in  a  hard 
knot,  and  I  stop'd  to  help  him  untie  them."  A  little 
after,  Jake  hung  his  toe  in  a  crack  of  the  floor,  and 
nearly  fell ;  "  Ding  my  buttons,"  said  he,  "  if  I  didn't 
know  I  should  stumble  over  Jim  Johnson's  foot  at  last ; 
Jim,  draw  your  foot  up  to  your  own  end  of  the  reel." 
(Jim  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  reel,  and  had,  in  truth, 
a  prodigious  foot.) 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  day,  many  of  the  neigh 
bouring  farmers  dropped  in,  and  joined  the  squire  and 
myself  in  talking  of  old  times.  At  length  dinner  was 
announced.  It  consisted  of  plain  fare,  but  there  was  a 
profusion  of  it.  Rough  planks,  supported  by  stakes 
driven  in  the  ground,  served  for  a  table ;  at  which  the 
old  and  young  of  both  sexes  seated  themselves  at  the 
same  time.  I  soon  recognised  Mrs.  Gibson  from  all 
the  matrons  present.  Thirty  years  had  wrought  great 
cnanges  in  her  appearance,  but  they  had  left  some  of 
her  features  entirely  unimpaired.  Her  eye  beamed 
with  all  its  youthful  fire  ;  and,  to  my  astonishment,  her 
mouth  was  still  beautified  with  a  full  set  of  teeth,  un 
blemished  by  time.  The  rose  on  her  cheek  had  rather 
freshened  than  faded  and  her  smile  was  the  very  same 
B2 


18  THE    UANCE. 

that  first  subdued  my  heart ;  but  he/  fine  fc.rm  was 
wholly  lost,  and,  with  it,  all  the  grace  of  her  move- 
ments.  Pleasing  but  melancholy  reflections  occupied 
my  mind  as  I  gazed  on  her  dispensing  her  cheerful 
hospi&lities.  I  thought  of  the  sad  history  of  many  oi 
her  companions  and  mine,  who  used  to  carry  ligh) 
hearts  through  the  merry  dance.  I  compared  my  af. 
ter  life  with  the  cloudless  days  of  my  attachment  to 
Polly.  Then  I  was  light  hearted,  gay,  contented,  and 
happy.  I  aspired  to  nothing  but  a  good  name,  a  good 
wife,  and  an  easy  competence.  The  first  and  last 
were  mine  already  ;  and  Polly  had  given  me  too  many 
little  tokens  of  her  favour  to  leave  a  doubt  now  that  the 
second  was  at  my  command.  But  I  was  foolishly  told 
that  my  talents  were  of  too  high  an  order  to  be  employ 
ed  in  the  drudgeries  of  a  farm,  and  I  more  foolishly  be 
lieved  it.  I  forsook  the  pleasures  which  I  had  tried 
and  proved,  and  went  in  pursuit  of  those  imaginary 
joys  which  seemed  to  encircle  the  seat  of  Fame. 
From  that  moment  to  the  present,  my  life  had  been  lit. 
tie  else  than  one  unbroken  scene  of  disaster,  disap 
pointment,  vexation,  and  toil.  And  now,  when  I  was 
too  old  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  which  I  had  discarded,  1 
found  that  my  aim  was  absolutely  hopeless  ;  and  that 
my  pursuits  had  only  served  to  unfit  me  for  the  hum 
bler  walks  of  life,  and  to  exclude  me  from  the  higher. 
The  gloom  of  these  reflections  was,  however,  lightened 
in  a  measure  by  the  promises  of  the  coming  hour,  when 
I  was  to  live  over  again  with  Mrs.  Gibson  some  of  the 
happiest  moments  of  my  life. 

After  a  hasty  repast  the  young  people  returned  tc 
tneir  amusement,  followed  by  myself,  with  several  of 
the  elders  of  the  company.  An  hour  had  scarcely 
elapsed  before  Mrs.  Gibson  entered,  accompanied  by  a 
goodly  number  of  matrons  of  her  own  age.  This  ac 
cession  to  the  company  produced  its  usual  effects.  Ii 
raised  the  tone  of  conversation  a  full  octave,  and  ^ave 
it  a  triple  time  movement ;  added  new  life  to  the  -vii 
and  limbs  of  the  young  folks,  and  set  the  old  TPP»  U 
cracking  jokes. 


THE    LANCE.  19 

\t  length  the  time  arrived  for  me  to  surprise  and 
a  I'ght  Mrs.  Gibson.  The  young  people  insisted  upon 
tho  old  folks  taking  a  reel ;  and  this  was  just  what  I 
had  been  waiting  for  ;  for,  after  many  plans  for  making 
the  discovery,  I  had  finally  concluded  upon  that  which 
I  thought  would  make  her  joy  general  among  the  com 
pany  :  and  that  was,  to  announce  myself,  just  before 
.eading  her  to  the  dance,  in  a  voice  audible  to  most  of 
the  assembly.  I  therefore  readily  assented  to  the  prop 
osition  of  the  young  folks,  as  did  two  others  of  my  age, 
and  \re  made  to  the  ladies  for  our  partners.  I,  of 
course,  offered  my  hand  to  Mrs.  Gibson. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  Mrs.  Gibson,  let  us  see  if  we  can't 
out-dance  these  young  people." 

"  Dear  me,  sir,"  said  she,  u  I  haven't  danced  a  step 
these  twenty  years." 

"  Neither  have  I ;  but  I've  resolved  to  try  once  more, 
if  you  will  join  rne,  just  for  old  time's  sake." 

"  I  really  cannot  think  of  dancing,"  said  she. 

"  Well,"  continued  I  (raising  my  voice  to  a  pretty 
high  pitch,  on  purpose  to  be  heard,  while  my  counte 
nance  kindled  with  exultation  at  the  astonishment  and 
delight  which  I  was  about  to  produce),  "  you  surely 
will  dance  with  an  old  friend  and  sweetheart,  who  used 
to  dance  with  you  when  a  girl !" 

At  this  disclosure  her  features  assumed  a  vast  vari 
ety  of  expressions  ;  but  none  of  them  responded  pre 
cisely  to  my  expectation  :  indeed,  some  of  them  were 
of  such  an  equivocal  and  alarming  character,  that  I 
deemed  it  advisable  not  to  prolong  her  suspense.  I 
therefore  proceeded : 

"  Have  you  forgot  your  old  sweetheart,  Abram  Bald, 
win?" 

"  What !"  said  she,  looking  more  astonished  and  con- 
fused  than  ever.  "  Abram  Baldwin  !  Abram  Baldwin ! 
I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  the  name  before." 

"  Do  you  remember  Jim  Johnson  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  she, "  mighty  well,"  her  countenance 
brightening  with  a  smile. 

«  And  Bill  Martin  ?" 


20  THE    DANCE. 

"  Yes,  perfectly  well ;  why,  who  are  you  7" 
Here  we  were  interrupted  by  one  of  the  gentlemen, 
who  had  led  his  partner  to  the  floor,  with,  "Come,  stran 
ger,  we're  getting  mighty  tfred  o'  standing.  It  won't 
Jo  for  old  people  that's  going  to  dance  to  take  up  much 
time  in  standing  ;  they'll  lose  all  their  spryness.  Don't 
etand  begging  Polly  Gibson,  she  never  dances  ;  but  take 
my  Sal  there,  next  to  her ;  she'll  run  a  reel  with  you,  to 
aid  Nick's  house  and  back  agin." 

No  alternative  was  left  me,  and  therefore  I  offered 
ny  hand  to  Mrs.  Sally — I  didn't  know  who. 

"  Well,"  thought  I,  as  I  moved  to  my  place,  "  the 
squire  is  pre'ty  secure  from  jealousy;  but  Polly  will 
loon  remember  me  when  she  sees  my  steps  in  the  reel. 
I  will  dance  precisely  as  I  used  to  in  my  youth,  if  it 
tire  me  to  death."  There  was  one  step  that  was  .al 
most  exclusively  my  own,  for  few  of  the  dancers  of  my 
Jay  could  perform  it  at  all,  and  none  with  the  grace 
and  ease  that  I  did.  "  She'll  remember  Abram  Bald- 
»vin,"  thought  I,  "  as  soon  as  she  sees  the  double  cross, 
kop."  It  was  performed  by  rising  and  crossing  the 
legs  twice  or  thrice  before  lighting,  and  I  used  to  carry 
it  to  the  third  cross  with  considerable  ease.  It  was  a 
step  solely  adapted  to  setting  or  balancing,  as  all  will 
perceive  ;  but  I  thought  the  occasion  would  justify  a 
little  perversion  of  it,  and  therefore  resolved  to  lead  o£ 
with  it,  that  Polly  might  be  at  once  relieved  from  sus- 
pense.  Just,  however,  as  I  reached  my  place,  Mrs. 
Gibson's  youngest  son,  a  boy  about  eight  years  old. 
ran  in  ar  d  cried  out, "  Mammy,  old  Boler's  jump'd  upon 
the  planks,  and  dragg'd  off  a  great  hunk  o'  meat  as  big 
as  your  head,  and  broke  a  dish  and  two  plates  all  to 
darn  smashes  !"  Away  went  Mrs.  Gibson,  and  off 
v/ent  the  music.  Still  I  hoped  that  matters  would  be 
adjusted  in  time  for  Polly  to  return  and  see  the  dou 
ble  cross-hop  ;  and  I  felt  the  mortification  which  my 
delay  in  getting  a  partner  had  occasioned  somewhat 
solaced  by  the  reflecticn  that  it  had  thrown  me  at  the 
foot  of  the  reel. 

The  first  and  second  couples  had  nearly  complot'  ^ 


THE    DANCE.  21 

tneir  perfo.mances,  and  Polly  had  not  returned.  I  «e- 
gan  to  grow  uneasy,  and  to  interpose  as  many  delays 
as  I  could  without  attracting  notice. 

The  six  reel  is  closed  by  the  foot  couple  balancing  at 
the  head  of  the  set,  then  in  the  middle,  then  at  the  foot, 
again  in  the  middle,  meeting  at  the  head,  and  leading 
down. 

My  partner  and  I  had  commenced  balancing  at  the 
head,  and  Polly  had  not  returned.  I  balanced  until  my 
partner  forced  me  on.  I  now  deemed  it  advisable  to 
give  myself  up  wholly  to  the  double  cross-hop  ;  so  that, 
if  Polly  should  return  in  time  to  see  any  step,  it  should 
be  this,  though  I  was  already  nearly  exhausted.  Ac- 
cordingly,  I  made  the  attempt  to  introduce  it  in  the 
turns  of  the  reel ;  but  the  first  experiment  convinced 
me  of  three  things  at  once  :  1st.  That  I  could  not  have 
used  the  step  in  this  way  in  my  best  days ;  2d.  That 
my  strength  would  not  more  than  support  it  in  its  prop, 
er  place  for  the  remainder  of  the  reel ;  and,  3d.  If  I 
tried  it  again  in  this  way,  I  should  knock  my  brains  out 
against  the  puncheons  ;  for  my  partner,  who  seemed 
determined  to  confirm  her  husband's  report  of  her, 
svinced  no  disposition  to  wait  upon  experiments  ;  but, 
fetching  me  a  jerk  while  I  was  up  and  my  legs  crossed, 
had  wellnigh  sent  me  head  foremost  to  Old  Nick's 
house,  sure  enough. 

We  met  in  the  middle,  my  back  to  the  door,  and  from 
the  silence  that  prevailed  in  the  yard,  I  flattered  myself 
that  Polly  might  be  even  now  catching  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  favourite  step,  when  I  heard  her  voice  at  some 
distance  from  the  house  :  "  Get  you  gone  !  G-e-e-e-t 
you  gone  !  G-e-e-e-e-e-t  you  gone !"  Matters  out 
doors  were  now  clearly  explained.  There  had  been 
a  struggle  to  get  the  meat  from  Boler  ;  Boler  had  tri 
umphed,  and  retreated  to  the  woods  with  his  booty, 
and  Mrs.  Gibson  was  heaping  indignities  upon  him  in 
the  last  resort. 

The  three  "  Gel-you-gones"  met  me  precisely  at  the 
three  closing  balances  ;  and  the  last  brought  my  moral 
energies  to  a  perfect  level  \vi'h  my  physical. 


22  THE    DANCE. 

Mrs.  Gibson  returned,  however,  in  a  few  minutes 
after,  in  a  good  humour ;  for  she  possessed  a  lovely 
disposition,  which  even  marriage  could  not  spoil.  As 
soon  as  I  could  collect  breath  enough  for  regular  con 
versation  (for,  to  speak  in  my  native  dialect,  I  was 
*  mortal  tired"),  I  took  a  seat  by  her,  resolved  not  to 
quit  the  house  without  making  myself  known  to  her,  if 
possible. 

"How  much,"  said  I,  "your  Polly  looks  and  dances 
like  you  used  to,  at  her  age." 

"  I've  told  my  old  man  so  a  hundred  times,"  said  she. 
"  Why,  who  upon  earth  are  you  !" 

"  Did  you  ever  see  two  persons  dance  more  alike  than 
Jim  Johnson  and  Sammy  Tant  ?" 

"  Never.     Why,  who  can  you  be  !" 

"  You  remember  Becky  Lewis  ?" 

"Yes!" 

"  Well,  look  at  Chloe  Dawson,  and  you'll  see  her 
over  again." 

"  Well,  law  me !     Now  I  know  I  must  have  seen  you 
somewhere ;  but,  to  save  my  life,  I  can't  tell  where 
Where  did  your  father  live  ?" 

"  He  died  when  I  was  small." 

"  And  where  did  you  use  to  see  me  ?" 

"  At  your  father's,  and  old  Mr.  Dawson's,  and  at 
Mrs.  Barnes's,  and  at  Squire  Noble's,  and  many  other 
places." 

"  Well,  goodness  me  !  it's  mighty  strange  I  can't  cah 
vou  to  mind." 

I  now  began  to  get  petulant,  and  thought  it  best  to 
leave  her. 

The  dance  wound  up  with  the  old  merry  jig,  and  the 
company  dispersed. 

The  next  day  I  set  out  for  my  residence.  I  had  been 
at  home  rather  more  than  two  months,  when  I  receiv 
ed  the  following  letter  from  Squire  Gibson  : 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  I  send  you  the  money  collected  on  the 
notes  you  left  with  me.  Since  you  left  here,  Polly  has 
been  thinking  about  old  times,  and  she  says,  to  save 
her  life,  she  can't  recollect,  you." 

BALDWIN 


HORSE-SWAP  2? 


THE  HORSE-SWAP. 

DURING  the  session  of  the  Supreme  Cc  ,rt,  in  the 

dlage  of ,  about  three  weeks  ago,  wher  a  number 

0?  people  were  collected  in  the  principal  street  of  the 
villdge,  I  observed  a  young  man  riding  up  and  down 
the  street,  as  I  supposed,  in  a  violent  passion.  He 
galloped  this  way,  then  that,  and  then  the  other  ;  spur 
red  nis  horse  to  one  group  of  citizens,  then  to  another 
then  dashed  off  at  half  speed,  as  if  fleeing  from  dan 
ger  ;  and,  suddenly  checking  his  horse,  returned  first  ir 
a  pace,  then  in  a  trot,  and  then  in  a  canter.  While 
he  was  performing  these  various  evolutions,  he  cursed, 
swore,  tvhooped,  screamed,  and  tossed  himself  in  every 
attitude  which  man  could  assume  on  horseback.  In 
short,  he  cavorted  most  magnanimously  (a  term  which, 
in  our  tongue,  expresses  all  that  I  have  described,  and 
a  little  more),  and  seemed  to  be  setting  all  creation  a* 
defiance.  As  I  like  to  see  all  that  is  passing,  I  deter 
mined  to  take  a  position  a  little  nearer  to  him,  and  to 
ascertain,  if  possible,  what  it  was  that  affected  him  so 
sensibly.  Accordingly,  I  approached  a  crowd  before 
which  he  had  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  examined  it 
with  the  strictest  scrutiny.  But  I  could  see  nothing 
in  it  that  seemed  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  ca- 
vorter.  Every  man  appeared  to  be  in  good  humour., 
and  all  minding  their  own  business.  Not  one  so  much 
as  noticed  the  principal  figure.  Still  he  went  on.  Af 
ter  a  semicolon  pause,  which  my  appearance  seemed  to 
produce  (for  he  eyed  me  closely  as  I  approached),  h 
fetched  a  whoop,  and  swore  that  "  he  could  out. swap 
any  live  man,  woman,  or  child  that  ever  walked  these 
hills,  or  that  ever  straddled  horseflesh  since  the  days  of 
old  daddy  Adam.  Stranger,"  said  he  to  me,  "  did  you 
ever  sec  the  Yallntc  Blossom  from  Jr-.gper  V' 


24  THE    HORSE-SWAP 

"  No,'   said  I,  "  but  I  have  often  heai ,.  of  him. 

"  I'm  the  boy,"  continued  he  ;  "  perhaps  a  leetle,  jisl 
a  leetle,  of  the  best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  trod 
shoe-leather." 

I  began  to  feel  my  situation  a  little  awkward,  when  I 
was  relieved  by  a  man  somewhat  advanced  in  years, 
who  stepped  up  and  began  to  survey  the  "  Yallow  Blos 
som's"  horse  with  much  apparent  interest.  This  drew 
the  rider's  attention,  and  he  turned  the  conversation 
from  me  to  the  stranger. 

"  Well,  my  old  coon,"  said  he,  "  do  you  want  to  swap 
hosses  ?" 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  stranger ;  "  I  be 
lieve  I've  got  n  beast  I'd  trade  with  you  for  that  one,  ii 
you  'ike  him.' 

"  Well,  fetch  up  your  nag,  my  old  cock  ;  you're  jist 
the  lark  I  wanted  to  get  hold  of.  I  am  perhaps  a  leetle, 
'ist  a  leetle,  of  the  best  man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever 
stole  cracklins  out  of  his  mammy's  fat  gourd.  Where's 
your  hoss  ?" 

"  I'll  bring  him  presently  ;  but  I  want  to  examine 
your  horse  a  little." 

"  Oh  !  look  at  him,"  said  the  Blossom,  alighting  and 
hitting  him  a  cut  ;  "  look  at  him.  He's  the  best  piece 
of  Aossfiesh  in  the  thirteen  united  univarsal  worlds 
There's  no  sort  o'  mistake  in  little  Bullet.  He  can 
pick  up  miles  on  his  feet,  and  fling  'em  behind  him  as 
fast  as  the  next  man's  hoss,  I  don't  care  where  he  comes 
from.  And  he  can  keep  at  it  as  long  as  the  sun  car. 
shine  without  resting." 

During  this  harangue,  little  Bullet  looked  as  if  he  un 
derstood  it  all,  believed  it,  .ind  was  ready  at  any  mo. 
ment  to  verify  it.     He  was  a  horse  of  goodly  counte 
nance,  rather  expressive  of  vigilance  than  fire;  though 
an  unnatural  appearance  of  fierceness  was  thrown  into 
it  by  the  loss  of  his  ears,  which  had  been  cropped  pretty 
close  to  his  head.     Nature  had  done  but  little  for  BuK 
let's  head  and  neck  ;  but  he  managed,  in  a  great  meas 
ure,  to  hide  their  defects  by  bowing  perpetually.     He 
had  obviously  suffered  severely  for  corn  ;  bu*  if  bis  rib? 


• 


THE    HORSE-SWAP.  25 

and  hip  bones  had  not  disclosed  the  fact,  he  never  would 
have  done  it ;  for  he  was  in  all  respects  as  cheerful  and 
happy  as  if  he  commanded  all  the  corn-cribs  and  fod 
der-stacks  in  Georgia.  His  height  was  about  twelve 
hands ;  but  as  his  shape  partook  somewhat  of  that  of 
the  giraffe,  his  haunches  stood  much  lower.  They 
were  short,  strait,*jpeaked,  and  concave.  Bullet's  tail, 
however,  made  amends  for  all  his  defects.  All  that 
die  artist  could  do  to  beautify  it  had  been  done ;  and 
all  that  horse  could  do  to  compliment  the  artist,  Bullet 
did.  His  tail  was  nicked  in  superior  style,  and  exhib 
ited  the  line  of  beauty  in  so  many  directions,  that  it 
could  not  fail  to  hit  the  most  fastidious  taste  in  some 
of  them.  From  the  root  it  dropped  into  a  graceful 
festoon  ;  then  rose  in  a  handsome  curve ;  then  resu 
med  its  first  direction  ;  and  then  mounted  suddenly  up. 
ward  like  a  cypress  knee  to  a  perpendicular  of  about 
two  and  a  half  inches.  The  whole  had  a  careless  and 
bewitching  inclination  to  the  right.  Bullet  obviously 
knew  where  his  beauty  lay,  and  took  all  occasions  to 
display  it  to  the  best  advantage.  If  a  stick  cracked, 
or  if  any  one  moved  suddenly  about  him,  or  coughed, 
or  hawked,  or  spoke  a  little  louder  than  common,  up 
went  Bullet's  tail  like  lightning ;  and  if  the  going  up 
did  not  please,  the  coming  down  must  of  necessity,  for 
it  was  as  different  from  the  other  movement  as  was  its 
direction.  The  first  was  a  bold  and  rapid  flight  up 
ward,  usually  to  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  In 
this  position  he  kept  his  interesting  appendage  until 
he  satisfied  himself  that  nothing  in  particular  was  to  be 
done  ;  when  he  commenced  dropping  it  by  half  inches, 
in  second  beats,  then  in  triple  time,  then  faster  and 
shorter,  and  faster  and  shorter  still,  until  it  finally  died 
away  imperceptibly  into  its  natural  position.  If  I  might 
compare  sights  to  sounds,  I  should  say  its  sett/ing  was 
more  like  the  note  of  a  locust  than  anything  else  in 
nature. 

Either  from  native  sprightliness  of  disposition,  from 
uncontrollable  activity,  or  from  an  unconquerable  habit 
nf  removing  flics  by  the  stamping  of  the  feet,  Bullet 
C 


26  THE    HORSE-SWAP. 

never  stood  still ;  but  always  kept  up  a  gentle  fly-sea, 
ring  movement  of  his  limbs,  which  was  peculiarly  in. 
teresting. 

"  I  tell  you,  man,"  proceeded  the  Yellow  Blossom 
"  he'f  the  best  live  hoss  that  ever  trod  the  grit  of  Geor- 
gia.  Bob  Smart  knows  the  hoss.  Come  here,  Bob, 
and  mount  this  hoss,  and  show  Bullet's  motions." 
Here  Bullet  bristled  up,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
hunting  iur  Bob  all  day  long,  and  had  just  found  him. 
Bob  sprang  on  his  back  "  Boo-oo-oo !"  said  Bcb, 
with  a  fluttering  noise  of  the  Ijps  ;  and  away  went  Bul 
let,  as  if  in  a  quarter  race,  with  all  his  beauties  spread 
in  handsome  style. 

"Now  fetch  him  back,"  said  Blossom.  Bullet  turn, 
ed  and  came  in  pretty  much  as  he  went  out. 

"  Now  trot  him  by."  Bullet  reduced  his  tail  to  "  cus 
tomary  ;"  sidled  to  the  right  and  left  airily,  and  exhibited 
at  least  three  varieties  of  trot  in  the  short  space  of  fif 
ty  yards. 

"  Make  him  pace !"  Bob  commenced  twitching  the 
bridle  and  kicking  at  the  same  time.  These  inconsist 
ent  movements  obviously  (and  most  naturally)  discon 
certed  Bullet ;  for  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  learn, 
from  them,  whether  he  was  to  proceed  or  stand  still. 
He  started  to  trot,  and  was  told  that  wouldn't  do.  He 
attempted  a  canter,  and  was  checked  again.  He  stop 
ped,  and  was  urged  to  go  on.  Bullet  now  rushed  into 
the  wide  field  of  experiment,  and  struck  out  a  gait  of 
his  own,  that  completely  turned  the  tables  upon  his  ri 
der,  and  certainly  deserved  a  patent.  It  seemed  to 
have  derived  its  elements  from  the  jig,  the  minuet,  and 
the  cotillon.  If  it  was  not  a  pace,  it  certainly  had  pace 
in  it,  and  no  man  would  venture  to  call  it  anything  else  ; 
so  it  passed  off*  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  owner. 

"  Walk  him  !"  Bullet  was  now  at  home  again  •  and 
he  walked  as  if  mone"  was  staked  on  him. 

The  stranger,  whoso  name,  I  afterward  learned,  waa 
Peter  Ketch,  having  examined  Bullet  to  his  heart's  con 
tent,  ordered  his  son  Neddy  to  go  and  bring  up  Kit. 
Neddy  soon  appeared  upon.  Kit;  a  we'1-formed  scare 


THE   HORSE-SWAP.  27 

of  the  middle  size,  and  in  good  order.  His  tout  en 
semble  threw  Bullet  entirely  in  the  shade,  though  a 
glance  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  any  one  that  Bullet  had 
the  decided  advantage  of  him  in  point  of  intellect. 

"  Why,  man,"  said  Blossom,  "do  you  bring  such  a 
hoss  as  that  to  trade  for  Bullet  ?  Oh,  I  see  you're  no 
notion  of  trading." 

"  Ride  him  oft',  Neddy !"  said  Peter.  Kit  put  off  af 
a  handsome  lope. 

"  Trot  him  back  !"  Kit  came  in  at  a  long,  sweep 
ing  trot,  and  stopped  suddenly  at  the  crowd. 

"  Well,"  said  Blossom,  "  let  me  look  at  him  ;  maybe 
he'll  do  to  plough." 

"  Examine  him  !"  said  Peter,  taking  hold  of  the  bri- 
die  close  to  the  mouth;  "he's  nothing  but  a  tacky. 
He  an't  as  pretty  a  horse  as  Bullet,  I  know ;  but  he'll 
do.  Start  'ern  together  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  mile ; 
and  if  Kit  an't  twenty  mile  ahead  of  him  at  the  com 
ing  out,  any  man  may  take  Kit  for  nothing.  But  he's 
a  monstrous  mean  horse,  gentleman ;  any  man  may 
see  that.  He's  the  scariest  horse,  too,  you  ever  saw. 
He  won't  do  to  hunt  on,  no  how.  Stranger,  will  you 
let  Neddy  have  your  rifle  to  shoot  off  him  ?  Lay  the 
rifle  between  his  ears,  Neddy,  and  shoot  at  the  blaze 
in  that  stump.  Tell  me  when  his  head  is  high  enough." 

Ned  fired,  and  hit  the  blaze  ;  and  Kit  did  not  move 
a  hair's  breadth. 

"  Neddy,  take  a  couple  of  sticks,  and  beat  on  that 
hogshead  at  Kit's  tail." 

Ned  made  a  tremendous  rattling,  at  which  Bullet 
took  fright,  broke  his  bridle,  and  dashed  off  in  grand 
style ;  and  would  have  stopped  all  farther  negotiations 
by  going  home  in  disgust,  had  not  a  traveller  arrested 
him  and  brought  him  back ;  but  Kit  did  not  move. 

"  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  continued  Peter,  "  he's  t\\j 
scariest  horse  you  ever  saw.  He  an't  as  gentle  as 
Bullet,  but  he  won't  do  any  harm  if  you  watch  him. 
Shall  I  put  him  in  a  cart,  gig,  or  wagon  for  you,  stran. 
ger? 
He  s  a  monstrous  mean  horse." 


28  THE    HORSE-SWAP. 

During  all  this  time  Blossom  was  examining  him 
with  the  nicest  scrutiny.  Having  examined  his  frame 
and  limbs,  he  now  looked  at  his  eyes. 

"  He's  got  a  curious  look  out  of  his  eyes,"  said 
Blossom. 

"Oh  yes,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "just  as  blind  as  a  bat. 
Blind  horses  always  have  clear  eyes.  Make  a  motion 
at  his  eyes,  if  you  please,  sir." 

Blossom  did  so,  and  Kit  threw  up  his  head  rather  as 
<f  something  pricked  him  under  the  chin  than  as  if  fear 
ing  a  blow.  Blossom  repeated  the  experiment,  and 
Kit  jerked  back  in  considerable  astonishment. 

"Stone  blind,  you  see,  gentlemen,"  proceeded  Pe 
ter  ;  "  but  he's  just  as  good  to  travel  of  a  dark  night 
as  if  he  had  eyes." 

"  Blame  my  buttons,"  said  Blossom,  "  if  I  like  them 
eyes." 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  "  nor  I  neither.  I'd  rather  have 
'em  made  of  diamonds ;  but  they'll  do,  if  they  don't 
show  as  much  white  as  Bullet's." 

"  Well,"  said  Blossom,  "  make  a  pass  at  me." 

"  No,"  said  Peter ;  "  you  made  the  banter,  now  make 
your  pass." 

"  Well,  I'm  never  afraid  to  price  my  hosses.  You 
must  give  me  twenty-f  ve  dollars  boot." 

"  Oh,  certainly ;  say  fifty,  and  my  saddle  and  bridle 
in.  Here,  Neddy,  my  son,  take  away  daddy's  horse." 

"  Well,"  said  Blossom,  "  I've  made  my  pass,  now 
you  make  yours." 

"  I'm  for  short  talk  in  a  horse-swap,  and  therefore 
ilways  tell  a  gentleman  at  once  what  I  mean  to  do. 
Fou  must  give  me  ten  dollars." 

Blossom  swore  absolutely,  roundly,  and  profanely, 
that  he  never  would  give  boot. 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "I  didn't  care  about  trading; 
but  you  cut  such  high  shines,  that  I  thought  I'd  like  to 
back  you  out,  and  I've  done  it.  Gentlemen,  you  see 
I've  brought  him  to  a  hack." 

"  Come,  old  man,"  said  Blossom,  "  I've  been  joking 
with  you.  I  begit?  to  think  you  do  want  to  trade; 


THE    HORSE-SWAP.  29 

therefore,  give  me  five  dollars  and  take  Bullet.  I'd 
rather  lose  ten  dollars  any  time  than  not  make  a  trade, 
though  I  hate  to  fling  away  a  good  hcss." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  I'll  be  as  clever  as  you  are 
Just  put  the  five  dollars  on  Bullet's  back,  and  hand  hin» 
over ;  it's  a  trade." 

Blossom  swore  again,  as  roundly  as  before,  that  he 
would  not  give  boot ;  and,  said  he,  "  Bullet  wouldn't 
hold  five  dollars  on  his  back,  no  how.  But,  as  I  ban 
tered  you,  if  you  say  an  even  swap,  here's  at  you." 

"  I  told  you,"  said  Peter,  "  I'd  be  as  clever  as  you , 
therefore,  here  goes  two  dollars  more,  just  for  trade 
sake.  Give  me  three  dollars,  and  it's  a  bargain." 

Blossom  repeated  his  former  assertion ;  and  here 
the  parties  stood  for  a  long  time,  and  the  by-standers 
(for  many  were  now  collected)  began  to  taunt  both  par- 
ties.  After  some  time,  however,  it  was  pretty  unani 
mously  decided  that  the  old  man  had  backed  Blossom 
out. 

At  length  Blossom  swore  he  "never  would  be  backed 
out  for  three  dollars  after  bantering  a  man  ;"  and,  ac 
cordingly,  they  closed  the  trade. 

"  Now,"  said  Blossom,  as  he  handed  Peter  the  three 
dollars,  "  I'm  a  man  that,  when  he  makes  a  bad  trade, 
makes  the  most  of  it  until  he  can  make  a  better.  I'm 
for  no  rues  and  after-claps." 

"  That's  just  my  way,"  said  Peter  ;  "  I  never  goes 
to  law  to  mend  my  bargains." 

"Ah,  you're  the  kind  of  boy  I  love  to  trade  with. 
Here's  your  hoss,  old  man.  Take  the  saddle  and  bri 
dle  off  him,  and  I'll  strip  yours  ;  but  lift  up  the  blan 
ket  easy  from.  Bullet's  back,  for  he's  a  mighty  tender- 
backed  hoss." 

The  old  man  removed  the  saddle,  but  the  blanket 
stuck  ftst.  He  attempted  to  raise  it,  and  Bullet  bow 
ed  hirm  »,1  f,  switched  his  tail,  danced  a  little,  and  gave 
signs  of  Citing. 

"  Don't  hurt  him,  old  man."  said  Blossom,  archly  ; 
"  take  it  off  easy.     I  am,  perhaps,  a  leetle  of  the  1  c-st 
man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  catched  a  coou." 
C2 


30  THE    HOKSE-SWAP. 

Peter  continued  to  pull  at  the  blanket  more  and  more 
roughly,  and  Bullet  became  more  and  more  cavortish: 
iLsomuch  that,  when  the  blanket  came  off,  he  had  reach, 
ed  the  kicking  point  in  good  earnest. 

The  removal  of  the  blanket  disclosed  a  sore  on  Bui. 
.et's  back-bone  that  seemed  to  have  defiee  all  medical 
feKill.  It  measured  six  full  inches  in  length  and  four  in 
breadth,  and  had  as  many  features  as  Bullet  had  mo- 
tions.  My  heart  sickened  at  the  sight ;  and  I  felt  that 
the  brute  who  had  been  riding  him  in  that  situation  de 
served  the  halter. 

The  prevailing  feeling,  however,  was  that  of  mirth. 
The  laugh  became  loud  and  general  at  the  old  man's 
expense,  and  rustic  witticisms  were  liberally  bestowed 
upon  him  and  his  late  purchase.  These  Blossom  con 
tinued  to  provoke  by  various  remarks.  He  asked  the 
old  man  "  if  he  thought  Bullet  would  let  five  dollars  lie 
on  his  back."  He  declared  most  seriously  that  he  had 
owned  that  horse  three  months,  and  had  never  discov 
ered  before  that  he  had  a  sore  back, "  or  he  never  should 
have  thought  of  trading  him,"  &c.,  &c. 

The  old  man  bore  it  all  with  the  most  philosophic 
composure.  He  evinced  no  astonishment  at  his  late 
discovery,  and  made  no  replies.  But  his  son  Neddy 
had  not  disciplined  his  feelings  quite  so  well.  His 
eyes  opened  wider  and  wider  from  the  first  to  the  last 
pull  of  the  blanket ;  and,  when  the  whole  sore  burst 
upon  his  view,  astonishment  and  fright  seemed  to  con- 
lend  for  the  mastery  of  his  countenance.  As  the 
blanket  disappeared,  he  stuck  his  hands  in  his  breeches 
pockets,  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  lapsed  into  a  profound 
revery.  from  which  he  was  only  roused  by  the  cuts  at 
his  father.  He  bore  them  as  long  as  he  could  ;  and, 
when  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  he  began, 
with  a  certain  wildness  of  expression  which  gave  a  pe- 
culiai  ".nterest  to  what  he  uttered  :  "  His  back's  mighty 
bad  off;  but  dod  drot  my  soul  if  he's  put  it  to  daddy 
as  bad  as  he  thinks  he  has,  for  old  Kit's  both  blind  and 
deef,  I'll  bo  dod  drot  if  he  eint." 

"  The  devil  he  is,"  s-iki  Blossom. 


THE   HCHSf  -SWAP.  81 

"  Yes,  dod  drot  my  soul  if  he  eint.  You  walk  him, 
and  see  if  he  eint.  His  eyes  don't  look  like  it ;  but 
he'd  jist  as  leve  go  agin  the  house  with  you,  or  in  a 
ditch,  as  any  how.  New  you  go  try  him."  The 
laugh  was  now  turned  on  Blossom ;  and  many  rushed 
to  test  the  fidelity  of  the  little  boy's  report.  A  few  ex 
periments  established  its  truth  beyond  controversy. 

"  Neddy,"  said  the  old  man,  "  you  oughtn't  to  try 
and  make  people  discontented  with  their  things 
Stranger,  don't  mind  what  the  little  boy  says.  It 
you  can  only  get  Kit  rid  of  them  little  failings,  you'll 
find  him  all  sorts  of  a  horse.  You  are  a  leetle  the  best 
man  at  a  horse-swap  that  ever  I  got  hold  of;  but  don't 
*bol  away  Kit.  Come,  Neddy,  my  son,  let's  be  mo- 
nng ;  the  stranger  seems  to  be  getting  snappish." 

II  ALL* 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    N4.TIVE    GEORGIAN. 


THE   CHARACTER   OF   A  NATIVE   GEORGIAN 

THERE  are  some  yet  living  who  knew  the  man  whose 
character  I  am  about  to  delineate  ;  and  these  will  unan- 
imously  bear  testimony,  that,  if  it  be  not  faithfully 
drawn,  it  is  not  overdrawn.  They  cannot  avouch  for 
the  truth  of  the  anecdotes  which  I  am  about  to  relate 
of  him,  because  of  these  they  know  nothing  ;  but  they 
will  unhesitatingly  declare,  that  there  is  nothing  herein 
ascribed  to  him  of  which  he  was  incapable,  and  of 
which  he  would  not  readily  have  been  the  author,  sup- 
posing  the  scenes  in  which  I  have  placed  him  to  be 
real,  and  the  thoughts  and  actions  attributH  to  him  to 
have  actually  suggested  themselves  to  him.  They 
will  farther  testify,  that  the  thoughts  and  actions  are  in 
perfect  harmony  with  his  general  character. 

I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  as  yet  to  give  the  name  of  the 
person  in  question,  and  therefore  he  shall  be  designa 
ted  for  the  present  by  the  appellation  of  Ned  Brace. 

This  man  seemed  to  live  only  to  amuse  himself  with 
his  fellow-beings,  and  he  possessed  the  rare  faculty  of 
deriving  some  gratification  of  his  favourite  propensity 
from  almost  every  person  whom  he  met,  no  matter 
what  his  temper,  standing,  or  disposition.  Of  course 
he  had  opportunities  enough  of  exercising  his  uncom 
mon  gift,  and  he  rarely  suffered  an  opportunity  to  pass 
unimproved.  The  beau  in  the  presence  of  his  mis- 
tress,  the  fop,  the  pedant,  the  purse-proud,  the  over-fas, 
tidious  and  sensitive,  were  Ned's  favourite  game. 
These  never  passed  him  uninjured  ;  and  against  such 
he  directed  his  severest  shafts.  With  these  he  com 
monly  amused  himself,  by  exciting  in  them  every  va. 
riety  of  emotion,  under  circumstances  peculiarly  ridic. 
ulous.  He  was  admirably  fitted  to  his  vocation.  H» 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  A  NATIVE  GEORGIAN.    33 

could  assume  any  character  which  his  humour  required 
him  to  personate,  and  he  could  sustain  it  to  perfection. 
His  knowledge  of  the  character  of  others  seemed  to  be 
intuitive. 

It  may  seem  remarkable,  but  it  is  true,  that,  though 
he  lived  his  own  peculiar  life  for  about  sixteen  years, 
after  he  reached  the  age  of  manhood  he  never  involved 
himself  in  a  personal  rencounter  with  any  one.  This 
was  owing,  in  part,  to  his  muscular  frame,  which  few 
would  be  willing  to  engage  ;  but  more  particularly  to 
his  adroitness  in  the  management  of  his  projects  of  fun 
He  generally  conducted  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  ren- 
der  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  call  him  to  accounl 
without  violating  all  the  rules  of  decency,  politeness 
and  chivalry  at  once.  But  a  few  anecdotes  of  hirr 
will  give  the  reader  a  much  better  idea  of  his  charac 
ter  than  he  can  possibly  derive  from  a  general  descrip- 
tion.  If  these  fulfil  the  description  which  I  have  given 
of  my  hero,  all  will  agree  that  he  is  no  imaginary 
being:  if  they  do  not,  it  will  only  be  because  I  am  un 
fortunate  in  my  selection.  Having  known  him  from 
his  earliest  manhood  to  his  grave — for  he  was  a  native 
Georgian — I  confess  that  I  am  greatly  perplexed  in  de 
termining  what  portions  of  his  singular  history  to  lay 
before  the  reader  as  a  proper  specimen  of  the  whole 
A  three  day's  visit,  which  I  once  made  with  him  to 
Savannah,  placed  him  in  a  greater  variety  of  scenes, 
and  among  a  greater  diversity  of  characters,  than  per 
haps  any  other  period  of  his  life,  embracing  no  longer 
time  ;  and,  therefore,  I  will  choose  this  for  my  purpose. 

We  reached  Savannah  just  at  nightfall  of  a  cold  De 
cember's  evening.  As  we  approached  the  tavern  of 
Mr.  Blank,  at  which  we  designed  to  stop,  Ned  proposed 
to  me  that  we  should  drop  our  acquaintance  until  he 
should  choose  to  renew  it.  To  this  proposition  I  most 
cordially  assented,  for  I  knew  that,  so  doing,  I  should 
be  saved  some  mortifications,  and  avoid  a  thousand 
questions  which  I  would  not  know  how  to  answer. 
According  to  this  understanding,  Ned  lingered  behind 
in  order  that  I  might  reach  the  taverr  alone. 


34        ;HR  CHARACTER  OF  A  NATIVE  GEORGIAN. 

On  alighting  at  the  public  h  ;use  I  was  led  into  a 
large  dining-room,  at  the  entrance  of  which,  to  the 
right,  stood  the  bar,  opening  into  the  dining. room. 
On  the  left,  and  rather  nearer  to  the  centre  of  the 
room,  was  a  fireplace,  surrounded  by  gentlemen.  Upon 
entering  the  room,  my  name  was  demanded  at  the  bar  : 
it  was  given,  and  I  took  my  seat  in  the  circlf  around 
the  fire.  I  had  been  seated  just  long  enough  for  the 
company  to  survey  me  to  their  satisfaction  and  resume 
their  conversation,  when  Ned's  heavy  footstep  at  the 
door  turned  the  eyes  of  the  company  to  the  approach 
ing  stranger. 

"Your  name,  sir,  if  you  please?"  said  the  restless 
little  barkeeper,  as  he  entered. 

Ned  stared  at  the  question  with  apparent  alarm ; 
cast  a  fearful  glance  at  the  company  ;  frowned  and 
shook  his  head  in  token  of  caution  to  the  barkeeper , 
looked  confused  for  a  moment ;  then,  as  if  suddenly 
recollecting  himself,  jerked  a  piece  of  paper  out  of  his 
pocket,  turned  from  the  company,  wrote  on  it  with 
his  pencil,  handed  it  to  the  barkeeper,  walked  to  the 
left  of  the  fireplace,  and  took  the  most  conspicuous 
seat  in  the  circle.  He  looked  at  no  one,  spoke  to  no 
one ;  but,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  lapsed  into  a  pro 
found  revery. 

The  conversation,  which  had  been  pretty  general 
before,  stopped  as  short  as  if  every  man  in  the  room 
had  been  shot  dead.  Every  eye  was  fixed  on  Ned,  and 
every  variety  of  expression  was  to  be  seen  on  the  coun 
tenar.ces  of  the  persons  present.  The  landlord  came 
in ;  the  barkeeper  whispered  to  him  and  looked  at 
Ned.  The  landlord  looked  at  him  too  with  astonish, 
ment  and  alarm ;  the  barkeeper  produced  a  piece  of 
paper,  and  both  of  them  examined  it,  as  if  searching 
for  a  fig- mite  with  the  naked  eye.  They  rose  from 
the  examination  unsatisfied,  and  looked  at  Ned  again. 
Those  of  the  company  who  recovered  first  from  their 
astonishment  tried  to  revive  the  conversation  ;  but  the 
effort  was  awkward,  met  with  no  support,  and  failed. 
The  barkeeper,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  became 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.  85 

dignified  and  solemn,  and  left  the  bar  to  take  care  of 
itself.  The  landlord  had  a  world  of  foolish  questions 
to  ask  the  gentlemen  directly  opposite  to  Ned,  for  which 
purpose  he  passed  round  to  them  every  two  minutes, 
and  the  answer  to  none  did  he  hear. 

Three  or  four  boarders  coming  in,  who  were  unap- 
prized  of  what  had  happened,  at  length  revived  the  con 
versation  ;  not,  however,  until  they  had  created  some 
confusion,  by  inquiring  of  their  friends  the  cause  of  their 
sober  looks.  As  soon  as  the  conversation  began  to  be 
come  easy  and  natural,  Ned  rose  and  walked  out  into 
the  entry.  With  the  first  movement  all  were  as  hush 
as  death ;  but,  when  he  had  cleared  the  door,  another 
Babel  scene  ensued.  Some  inquired,  others  suspected, 
and  all  wondered.  Some  were  engaged  in  telling  the 
strangers  what  had  happened,  others  were  making  to 
wards  the  bar,  and  all  were  becoming  clamorous,  when 
Ned  returned  and  took  his  seat.  His  re-entry  was  as 
fatal  to  conversation  as  was  the  first  movement  of  his 
exit ;  but  it  soon  recovered  from  the  shock  ;  with  the 
difference,  however,  that  those  who  Jed  before  were 
now  mute,  and  wholly  absorbed  in  the  contemplation 
of  Ned's  person. 

After  retaining  his  seat  for  about  ten  minutes,  Ned 
rose  again,  inquired  the  way  to  the  stable,  and  left  the 
house.  As  soon  as  he  passed  the  outer  door,  the  bar 
keeper  hastened  to  the  company  with  Ned's  paper  in 
his  hand.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "can  any  of  you  tell 
me  what  name  this  is  ?"  All  rushed  to  the  paper  in 
an  instant ;  one  or  two  pair  of  heads  met  over  it  with 
considerable  force.  After  pondering  over  it  to  their 
Heart's  content,  they  all  agreed  that  the  first  letter  was 
an  "  E,"  and  the  second  a  "  B"  or  an  "  R,"  and  the  d — 1 
himself  could  not  make  out  the  balance.  While  they 
were  thus  engaged,  to  the  astonishment  of  everybody, 
Ned  interrupted  their  deliberations  with,  "  Gentlemen, 
if  you  have  satisfied  yourselves  with  that  paper,  I'll 
thank  you  for  it."  It  is  easy  to  imagine,  but  impossi 
ble  to  describe,  the  looks  and  actions  of  the  company 
jnder  th"ir  surprise  and  mortification.  They  dropped 


36  THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN. 

off,  and  left  the  barkeeper  to  his  appropriate  duty  of 
handing  the  paper  to  Ned.  He  reached  it  forth,  but 
Ned  moved  not  a  hand  to  receive  it  for  about  the  space 
of  three  seconds,  during  which  time  he  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  arch  offender  in  awfully  solemn  rebuke. 
He  then  took  it  gravely  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and 
left  the  barkeeper  with  a  shaking  ague  upon  him. 
From  this  moment  he  became  Ned's  most  obsequious 
and  willing  slave. 

Supper  was  announced  ;  Mrs.  Blank,  the  landlady, 
look  the  head  of  the  table,  and  Ned  seated  himself  next 
to  her.  Her  looks  denoted  some  alarm  at  finding  him 
so  near  to  her,  and  plainly  showed  that  he  had  been 
fully  described  to  her  by  her  husband  or  some  one  else. 

"  Will  you  take  tea  or  coffee,  sir  ?"  said  she. 

"  Why,  madam,"  said  Ned,  in  a  tone  as  courteous  as 
Chesterfield  himself  could  have  used,  "  I  am  really 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  and  to  expose  my  very  singu 
lar  appetite  ;  but  habitual  indulgence  of  it  has  made  it 
necessary  to  my  comfort,  if  not  to  my  health,  that  I 
should  still  favour  it  when  I  can.  If  you  will  pardon 
me,  I  will  take  both  at  the  same  time." 

This  respectful  reply  (which,  by-the-way,  she  alone 
was  permitted  to  hear)  had  its  natural  effect.  It  won 
for  him  her  unqualified  indulgence,  raised  doubts  wheth 
er  he  could  be  the  suspicious  character  which  had  been 
described  to  her,  and  begat  in  her  a  desire  to  cultivate 
a  farther  acquaintance  with  him.  She  handed  to  him 
the  two  cups,  and  accompanied  them  with  some  re 
marks,  drawn  from  her  own  observation  in  the  line  of 
her  business,  calculated  to  reconcile  him  to  his  whim- 
sical  appetite  ;  but  she  could  extract  from  Ned  nothing 
but  monosyllables,  and  sometimes  not  even  that  much. 
Consequently,  the  good  lady  began  very  soon  to  re- 
apse  into  her  former  feelings. 

Ned  placed  a  cup  on  either  side  of  him,  and  com 
menced  stirring  both  at  the  same  time  very  deliberate 
ly.  This  done,  he  sipped  a  little  tea,  and  asked  Mrs. 
B.  for  a  drop  more  milk  in  it.  Then  he  tasted  his 
roffee,  and  desired  a  little  more  sugar  in  it.  Then  he 


THE    CHARACTER   OF   A   NATIVE    GEORGIAN.          37 

tasted  his  tea  again,  and  requested  a  small  lump  »nore 
sugar  in  it.  Lastly,  he  tasted  his  coffee,  and  desired 
a  few  drops  more  milk  in  that.  It  was  easy  to  dis 
cover,  that,  before  he  got  suited,  the  landlady  had  sol- 
emnly  resolved  never  to  offer  any  more  encourage- 
ments  to  such  an  appetite.  She  waxed  exceedingly 
petulant,  and,  having  nothing  else  to  scold,  she  scolded 
the  servants,  of  course. 

Waffles  were  handed  to  Ned,  and  he  took  one :  batter 
cakes  were  handed,  and  he  took  one  ;  and  so  on  oi 
muffins,  rolls,  and  corn  bread.  Having  laid  in  these 
provisions,  he  turned  into  his  p'.ate,  upon  his  waffle  and 
batter-cake,  some  of  the  crumbs  of  theseve:al  kinds  of 
bread  which  he  had  taken,  in  different  proportions,  and 
commenced  mashing  all  together  with  his  knife.  Du 
ring  this  operation  the  landlady  frowned  and  pouted, 
the  servants  giggled,  and  the  boarders  were  variously 
affected. 

Having  reduced  his  mess  to  the  consistency  of  a  hard 
poultice,  he  packed  it  all  up  to  one  side  of  his  plate  in 
the  form  of  a  terrapin,  and  smoothed  it  all  over  nicely 
with  his  knife.  Nearly  opposite  to  Ned,  but  a  little 
below  him,  sat  a  waspish  little  gentleman,  who  had  been 
watching  him  with  increasing  torments  from  the  first 
to  the  last  movement  of  Ned's  knife.  His  tortures 
were  visible  to  blinder  eyes  than  Ned's,  and,  doubtless, 
had  been  seen  by  him  in  their  earliest  paroxysms. 
This  gentleman  occupied  a  seat  nearest  to  a  dish  of 
steak,  and  was  in  the  act  of  muttering  something  about 
"  brutes"  to  his  next  neighbour,  when  Ned  beckoned 
a  servant  to  him.  and  requested  him  "  to  ask  that  gen- 
tleman  for  a  small  bit  of  steak."  The  servant  obeyed 
and,  planting  Ned's  plate  directly  between  the  gentle 
man's  and  the  steak-dish,  delivered  his  message.  The 
testy  gentleman  turned  his  head,  and  the  first  thing  he 
saw  was  Ned's  party-coloured  terrapin  right  under  his 
nose.  He  started  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  a  snap- 
ping-lurtlc  ;  reddened  to  scarlet ;  looked  at  Ned  (who 
appeared  as  innocent  as  a  lamb)  ;  looked  at  the  servant 
(who  appeared  as  innocent  as  Ned)  ,  and  then  fe'l  to 
D 


39          THE    CHARACThA    O*    A    NAl    i^E    GEORGIAN 

work  on  the  steak  as  if  he  were  amputating  all  Ned's 
limbs  at  once. 

Ned  now  commenced  his  repast.  He  ate  his  meat 
and  breads  in  the  usual  way,  but  he  drank  his  liquids 
in  all  ways.  First  a  sip  of  tea,  then  of  coffee  ;  then 
two  of  the  first  and  one  of  the  last ;  then  three  of  the 
last  and  one  of  the  first,  and  so  on. 

His  steak  was  soon  consumed,  and  his  plate  was  a 
second  time  returned  to  the  mettlesome  gentleman  "  for 
another  very  small  bit  of  steak."  The  plate  paid  its 
second  visit  precisely  as  it  had  its  first ;  and,  as  soon 
as  the  fiery  gentleman  saw  the  half-demolished  terra- 
pin  again  under  his  nose,  he  seized  a  fork,  drove  it 
into  the  largest  slice  of  steak  in  the  dish,  dashed  it  into 
Ned's  plate,  rose  from  the  table,  and  left  the  room, 
cursing  Ned  from  the  very  inmost  chamber  of  his  soul. 
Every  person  at  the  table,  except  Ned,  laughed  outright 
at  the  little  man's  fury  ;  but  Ned  did  not  even  smile  ; 
^ay,  he  looked  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  thought  the 
(augh  was  at  him. 

The  boarders  one  after  another  retired,  until  Ned 
and  the  landlady  were  left  alone  at  the  table. 

"  Will  you  have  another  cup  of  tea  and  coffee,  sir  ?" 
said  she,  by  the  way  of  convincing  him  that  he  ought 
to  retire,  seeing  that  he  had  finished  his  supper. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  madam,"  returned  Ned. 

"  Will  you  have  a  glass  of  milk,  and  a  cup  of  tea  or 
coffee,  or  all  three  together  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  Ned.  "  1  am  not  blind,  madam," 
continued  he,  "  to  the  effects  which  my  unfortunate 
eccentricities  have  produced  upon  yourself  and  your 
company  ;  nor  have  I  witnessed  them  without  those 
feelings  which  they  are  well  calculated  to  inspire  in  a 
man  of  ordinary  sensibilities.  I  am  aware,  too,  that  I 
am  prolonging  and  aggravating  your  uneasiness,  by 
detaining  you  beyond  the  hour  which  demands  ycur 
presence  at  the  table ;  but  I  could  not  permit  you  to 
retire  without  again  bespeaking  your  indulgence  ot  the 
strange,  unnatural  appetite  which  has  just  caused  you 
K>  much  astonishment  and  mortification.  The  storv 


THK    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.          39 

of  its  beginning  might  be  interesting,  and  certainly 
would  be  instructing  to  you  if  you  are  a  mother  :  but 
I  am  indisposed  at  this  time  to  obtrude  it  upon  your 
patience,  and  I  presume  you  are  still  less  disposed  to 
hear  it.  My  principal  object,  however,  in  claiming 
your  attention  for  a  moment  at  this  time,  is  to  assure 
you  that,  out  of  respect  to  your  feelings,  I  will  surren 
der  the  enjoyment  of  my  meals  for  the  few  days  that  1 
nave  to  remain  in  Savannah,  and  conform  to  the  cus- 
toms  of  your  table.  The  sudden  change  of  my  habits 
will  expose  me  to  some  inconvenience,  and  may,  per 
haps,  affect  my  health  ;  but  I  will  willingly  incur  these 
hazards  rather  than  renew  your  mortification,  or  im 
pose  upon  your  family  the  trouble  of  giving  me  my 
meals  at  my  room." 

The  good  lady,  whose  bitter  feelings  had  given  place; 
to  the  kinder  emotion  of  pity  and  benevolence  before 
Ned  had  half  concluded  his  apology  (for  it  was  delivered 
in  a  tone  of  the  most  melting  eloquence),  caught  at  this 
last  hint,  and  insisted  upon  sending  his  meals  to  his 
room.  Ned  reluctantly  consented,  after  extorting  a 
pledge  from  her  thatsAe  would  assume  the  responsibil 
ities  of  the  trouble  that  lie  was  about  to  give  the  family. 

"  As  to  your  boarders,  madam,"  said  Ned,  in  con 
clusion,"!  have  no  apology  to  make  to  them.  I  grant 
them  the  privilege  of  eating  what  they  please  and  as 
they  pleast,,  and,  so  far  as  they  are  concerned,  I  shall 
exercise  the  same  privileges,  reckleso  of  their  feelings 
or  opinions  ;  and  I  shall  take  it  as  a  *  igular  favour  if 
you  will  say  nothing  to  them  or  to  any  "me  else  which 
may  lead  them  to  tho  di.seovei  y  that  I  avn  acquainted 
with  my  own  peculiarities.1' 

The  good  lady  promised  obedience  to  his  wishes, 
and  Ned,  requesting  to  be  conducted  to  his  room,  re 
tired. 

A  group  of  gentlemen  at  the  fireplace  had  sent,  many 
significant  "  hems"  and  smiles  to  Mrs.  Blank  during 
her  tete-d-tete  with  Ned  ;  and  as  she  approached  them, 
on  her  way  out  of  the  room,  they  began  to  taunt  her 
playfully  upon  the  impression  which  she  seemed  to  have 
made  'ipon  the  rem  rka'ile  stranger 


40          THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN. 

"  Really,"  said  one,  "  I  thought  the  impression  was 
rm  the  other  side." 

'*  And,  in  truth,  so  it  was,"  saii  Mrs.  B.  At  this 
moment  her  husband  stepped  in. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Blank,"  said  one  of  the 
company,  "  you'd  better  keep  a  sharp  look  out  on  thai 
stranger ;  our  landlady  is  wonderfully  taken  with  him.' 

"  I'll  be  bound,"  said  Mr.  B.,  "  for  my  wife  ;  the  less 
.ike  anybody  else  in  the  world  he  is,  the  better  will  she 
.ike  him." 

"  Well,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mrs.  B.,  "  I  never  had 
my  feelings  so  deeply  interested  in  a  stranger  in  my 
life.  I'd  give  the  world  to  know  his  history." 

"  Why,  then,"  rejoined  the  landlord,  "  I  suppose  he 
has  been  quizzing  us  all  this  time." 

"No,"  said  she,  "he  is  incapable  of  quizzing.  All 
that  you  have  seen  of  him  is  unaffected,  and  perfectly 
aatural  to  him." 

"  Then,  really,"  continued  the  husband,  "  he  is  a  very 
interesting  object,  and  I  congratulate  you  upon  getting 
so  early  into  his  confidence ;  but,  as  I  am  not  quite  as 
much  captivated  with  his  unaffected  graces  as  you 
seem  to  be,  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  in  charity  to  the 
rest  of  my  boarders,  of  requesting  him,  to-morrow,  to 
seek  other  lodgings." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  B.,  in  the  goodness  of  hei 
heart,  and  with  a  countenance  evincive  of  the  deepest 
deling,  "  I  would  not  have  you  do  such  a  thing  for  the 
world.  He's  only  going  to  stay  a  few  days." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  He  told  me  so,  and  do  let's  bear  with  him  thai 
.short  time.  He  sha'n't  trouble  you  or  the  boarders 
any  more." 

"  Why,  Sarah,"  said  the  landlord,  "  I  do  believe  you 
are  out  of  your  senses !" 

"  Gone  case !"  said  one  boarder.  "  Terrible  affair  !" 
said  another.  "  Bewitch, ng  little  fellow,"  said  a  third. 
"  Come,  Mrs.  Blank,  tell  us  all  he  said  to  you  !  We 
young  men  wish  to  know  how  to  please  the  ladies,  so 
that  we  may  get  wives  easily.  I'm  determined,  th-* 


THE    CHARACTER    of    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.          41 

bext  party  I  go  to,  to  make  a  soup  of  everything  on 
me  waiters,  and  eat  all  at  once.  I  shall  then  become 
irresistible  to  the  ladies." 

"  Get  along  with  your  nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  B.,  smi 
ling  as  she  left  the  room. 

At  8  o'clock  I  retired  to  m^  .Jom,  which  happened 
(probably  from  the  circumstance  of  our  reaching  the 
hotel  within  a  few  minutes  of  each  other)  to  be  adjoin- 
ing  Ned's.  I  had  no  sooner  entered  my  room  than 
Ned  followed  me,  where  we  interchanged  the  particu. 
lars  which  make  up  the  foregoing  story.  He  now  ex. 
pended  freely  the  laughter  which  he  had  been  collect- 
ing  during  the  evening.  He  stated  that  his  last  inter- 
view  with  Mrs.  Blank  was  the  result  of  necessity ;  that 
he  found  he  had  committed  himself  in  making  up  and 
disposing  of  his  odd  supper  ;  for  that  he  should  have  tc 
eat  in  the  same  way  during  his  whole  stay  in  Savan 
nah,  unless  he  could  manage  to  get  his  meals  in  pri 
vate;  and,  though  he  was  willing  to  do  penance  for 
one  meal  in  order  to  purchase  the  amusement  he  had 
enjoyed,  he  had  no  idea  of  tormenting  himself  three 
or  four  days  for  the  same  purpose.  To  tell  you  the 
honest  truth,  said  he,  nothing  but  an  appetite  whetted 
by  fasting  and  travelling  could  have  borne  me  through 
the  table  scene.  As  it  was,  my  stomach  several  times 
threatened  to  expose  my  tricks  to  the  whole  company, 
by  downright  open  rebellion.  I  feel  that  I  must  make 
it  some  atonement  for  the  liberty  I' have  taken  with  it, 
and  therefore  propose  that  we  go  out  and  take  an 
oyster  supper  before  we  retire  to  rest.  I  assented : 
we  set  out,  going  separately  until  we  reached  the  street. 

We  were  received  by  the  oyster-vender  in  a  small 
shop  which  fronted  upon  the  street,  and  were  conduct 
ed  through  it  to  a  back  door,  and  thence,  by  a  flight 
of  steps,  to  a  convenient  room  on- the  second  floor  oi 
an  adjoining  building.  We  had  been  seated  about 
three  minutes,  when  we  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs, 
and  directly  caught  this  sentence  from  the  ascending 
stranger  :  "  Aha,  Monsieur  M iddletong  !  you  say  you 
hah  do  bes  oystar  in  lecittee?  Vel,  me  shall  soon  srn.'' 
P2 


42          THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN. 

The  sentence  was  hardly  uttered  before  the  docw 
opened,  and  in  stepped  a  gay,  smirky  little  Frenchman 
He  made  us  a  low  bow,  and,  as  soon  as  he  rose  frorr 
his  obeisance,  Ned  rushed  to  him  in  transports  of  joy 
seized  him  by  the  hand,  and,  shaking  it  with  friendship's 
warmest  grasp,  exclaimed,  "  How  do  you  do,  my  old 
friend  ?  I  had  no  idea  of  meeting  you  here  ;  how  do 
you  do,  Mr.  Squeezelfanter?  how  have  you  been  this 
long  time  ?" 

"  Sair,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  me  tank  you  ver 
much  to  lub  me  so  hard;  but  you  mistake  de  gentle 
man;  my  name  is  not  de  Squeezilfaunter." 

"Come, come,  John,"  continued  Ned,  "quit  your  old 
tricks  before  strangers.  Mr.  Hall,  let  me  introduce 
you  to  my  particular  friend,  John  Squeezelfanter,  from 
Paris." 

"  Perhaps,  sir,"  said  I,  not  knowing  well  what  to 
say  or  how  to  act  in  such  an  emergency,  "  perhaps 
you  have  mistaken  the  gentleman." 

"  Begar,  sair,"  said  monsieur,  "  he  is  mistake  ebery- 
ting  at  once.  My  name  is  not  Zhaun ;  me  play  no 
treek;  me  is  not  degentlemongfren';  me  did  not  come 
from  Paree,  but  from  Bordeaux ;  and  me  did  not  sup- 
pose  dare  was  a  man  in  all  France  dat  was  name  de 
Squeezilfaunter." 

"If  I  am  mistaken,"  said  Ned,  "I  humbly  ask  your 
pardon ;  but,  really,  you  look  so  much  like  my  old 
friend  Jack,  and  talk  so  much  like  him,  that  I  would 
have  sworn  you  were  he." 

"  Vel,  sair,"  said  monsieur,  looking  at  Ned  as  though 
he  might  be  an  acquaintance  after  all ;  "  vel,  sair,  dis 
time  you  tell  my  name  right ;  my  name  is  Jacques* — 
Jacques  Sancric" 

"  There,"  proceeded  Ned,  "  I  knew  it  was  impossi 
ble  I  could  be  mistaken  ;  your  whole  family  settled  on 
Sandy  Creek ;  I  knew  your  father  and  mother,  your 
sister  Patsy  and  Dilsy,  your  brother  Ichabod,  your 
aunt  Bridget,  your — " 

*  This  name  in  French  is  pronounced  very  nearly  like  "Jack"  ic 
English. 


THE   CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.          43 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu,,  mon  Dieu  !"  exclaimed  the  French- 
rtian,  no  longer  able  to  contain  his  surprise ;  "  dat  is 
von  'Mericane  familee.  Dare  vas  not  one  French  fam. 
ilee  hab  all  dat  name  since  dis  vorl'  vas  make." 

"  Now  look  at  me,  good  Jack,"  said  Ned,  "  and  see 
if  you  don't  recollect  your  old  friend  Obadiah  Snoddle- 
burg.  who  used  to  play  with  you,  when  a  boy,  in  Sandy 
Creek." 

"  Vel,  Monsieur  Snotborg,  me  look  at  you  ver'  veil , 
and,  begar,  me  neber  see  you  in  de  creek,  nor  out  de 
creek.  'Tis  ver'  surprise  you  not  know  one  name 
from  one  creek" 

"  Oh,  very  well,  sir,  very  well ;  I  forgot  where  « 
was ;  I  understand  you  now,  perfectly.  You  are  not 
the  first  gentleman  I  have  met  with  in  Savannah  who 
knew  me  well  in  the  country  and  forgot  me  in  town. 
I  ask  you  pardon,  sir,  and  hope  you'll  excuse  mo." 

"  Me  is  ver'  will'  to  know  you  now,  sair  ;  but,  begar, 
me  will  not  tell  you  one  lie,  to  know  you  twenty-five 
and  tirty  years  ago." 

"  It  makes  no  difference,  sir,"  said  Ned,  looking 
thoughtfully  and  chagrined.  "  I  beg  leave,  however 
before  we  close  our  acquaintance,  to  correct  one  mis. 
\ake  which  I  made.  I  said  you  were  from  Paris  ;  I 
believe,  on  reflection,  I  was  wrong  ;  I  think  your  sister 
Dilsy  told  me  you  were  from  Bordeaux." 

"  Foutre,  de  sist'  Dils !  Here,  Monsieur  Middle 
long !  My  oystar  ready  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Vel,  if  my  oystar  ready,  you  give  dem  to  my  fren 
Monsieur  Snotborg  ;  and  ask  him  to  be  so  good  to  carry 
dem  to  my  sist'  Dils,  and  my  brodder  Ichbod  on  Sand 
Creek."  So  saying,  he  vanished  like  lightning. 

The  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  I  occupied  Necl'a 
seat.  Mrs.  Blank  had  no  sooner  taken  her  place,  than 
she  ordered  a  servant  to  bring  her  a  waiter,  upon 
which  she  placed  a  cup  of  tea  and  another  of  coffee  ; 
then  ordering  three  plates,  she  placed  them  on  it ;  sent 
one  servant  for  one  kind  of  bread,  and  another  for  an. 
other,  and  so  on  through  all  the  varieties  that  were  on 


44          THE    CHARACTEK    OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN. 

the  table,  from  which  she  made  selections  for  plate  No 
1.  In  the  same  way  did  she  collect  meats  for  plate 
No.  2  ;  No.  3  she  left  blank.  She  had  nearly  com 
pleted  her  operations,  when  her  husband  came  to 
know  why  every  servant  was  engaged,  and  no  gentle, 
man  helped  to  anything,  when  the  oddly  furnished 
waiter  met  his  eye,  and  fully  explained  the  wonder. 

"  In  God's  name,  Sarah,"  said  he,  "  who  are  yov 
inixing  up  those  messes  for  ?" 

"  For  that  strange  gentleman  we  were  speaking  of 
last  night,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  doesn't  he  come  to  the  table  ?" 

"  He  was  very  anxious  to  come,  but  I  would  not  le 
him." 

"  You  would  not  let  him  !     Why  not  ?" 

"  Because  I  did  not  wish  to  see  a  man  of  his  delicatv 
sensibilities  ridiculed  and  insulted  at  my  table." 

"  Delicate  devilabilities  !  Then  why  didn't  you  send 
a  servant  to  collect  his  mixtures?" 

"  Because  I  preferred  doing  it  myself  to  troubling 
the  boarders.  I  knew  that,  wherever  his  plates  went, 
the  gentlemen  would  be  making  merry  over  them,  and 
I  couldn't  bear  to  sec  it." 

The  landlord  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with  com 
mingled  astonishment,  doubt,  and  alarm ;  and  then, 
upon  the  breath  of  a  deep  drawn  sigh,  proceeded  : 

"  Well,  d — n*  the  man !  He  hasn't  been  in  the 
house  more  than  two  hours,  except  when  he  was  asleep, 
and  he  has  insulted  one  half  my  boarders,  made  fools 
of  the  other  half,  turned  the  head  of  my  barkeeper, 
crazed  all  my  servants,  and  run  my  wife  right  stark, 
staring,  raving  mad  ;  a  man  who  is  a  perfect  clown  ir. 
his  manners,  and  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  will,  in  th« 
end.  prove  to  be  a  horse-thief." 

Much  occurred  between  the  landlord  and  his  lady  ii 


*  I  should  certainly  omit  such  expressions  as  this,  could  I  do  s« 
with  historic  fidelity  ;  but  the  peculiarities  of  the  times  of  which1 
am  writing  cannot  be  faithfully  represented  without  them.  In  re 
cording  things  as  they  are,  truth  requires  me  sometimes  to  put  pro 
fane  language  irto  the  mouths  of  my  characters. 


• 


THE   CHARACTER   OF    A    NATIVE    BEOiGIAN.          48 

relation  to  Ned  which  we  must,  of  necessity,  omit 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  her  assiduities  ID  Ned,  her  unex- 
plained  sympathies  for  him,  her  often-repeated  desires 
to  become  better  acquainted  with  him,  conspiring  with 
one  or  two  short  interviews  which  he»  husband  saw 
between  he-  and  Ned  (and  which  consisted  of  nothing 
more  than  expressions  of  regret  on  his  part  at  the 
trouble  he  was  giving  the  family,  and  assurance  on 
ners  that  it  was  no  trouble  at  all),  began  to  bring  upon 
the  landlord  the  husband's  worst  calamity.  This  she 
soon  observed  ;  and,  considering  her  duty  to  her  hus 
band  as  of  paramount  obligation,  she  gave  him  an  ex 
planation  that  was  entirely  satisfactory.  She  told  him 
that  Ned  was  a  man  of  refined  feelings  and  highly  cul 
tivated  mind,  but  that,  in  his  infancy,  his  mother  had 
forced  him  to  eat  different  kinds  of  diet  together,  until 
she  had  produced  in  him  a  vitiated  and  unconquerable 
appetite,  which  he  was  now  constrained  to  indulge,  as 
the  drunkard  does  his,  or  be  miserable.  As  the  good 
man  was  prepared  to  believe  any  story  of  iceman's  fol 
ly,  he  was  satisfied. 

This  being  the  Sabbath,  at  the  usual  hour  Ned  went 
to  church,  and  selected  for  his  morning  service  one  of 
those  churches  in  which  the  pews  are  free,  and  in 
which  the  hymn  is  given  out,  and  sung  by  the  congre 
gation,  a  half  recitative. 

Ned  entered  the  church  in  as  fast  a  walk  as  he  could 
possibly  assume  ;  proceeded  about  half  down  the  aisle, 
and  popped  himself  down  in  his  seat  as  quick  as  if  he 
had  been  shot.  The*  more  thoughtless  of  the  congre 
gation  began  to  titter,  and  the  graver  peeped  up  slyly, 
but  solemnly  at  him. 

The  pastor  rose,  and,  before  giving  out  the  hymn, 
observed  that  singing  was  a  part  of  the  service  in  which 
ne  thought  the  whole  congregation  ought  to  join.  Thus 
saying,  he  gave  out  the  first  lines  of  the  hymn.  As 
soon  as  the  tune  was  raised,  Ned  struck  in,  with  one 
of  the  loudest,  hoarsest,  and  most  discordant  voices 
>hat  ever  annoyed  a  solemn  assembly. 

"I  would  observe,"  said  the  preacher,  before 


40          THE   CHARACTER   OF   A   NATIVE   GEORGIAN* 

out  the  next  two  lines,  "that  there  are  some  persons 
who  have  not  the  gift  of  singing ;  such,  of  course,  are 
not  expected  to  sing."  Ned  took  the  hint  and  sang  no 
more ;  but  his  entrance  into  church  and  his  entrance 
into  the  hymn  had  already  dispersed  the  solemnity  oj 
three  fifths  of  the  congregation. 

As  soon  as  the  pastor  commenced  his  sermon,  Ned 
i/pened  his  eyes,  threw  back  his  head,  dropped  his  un 
der  jaw,  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  most  intense 
interest.  The  preacher  was  an  indifferent  one ;  and  by 
as  much  as  he  became  dull  and  insipid,  by  so  much  dio 
Ned  become  absorbed  in  the  discourse.  And  yet  it 
was  impossible  for  the  nicest  observer  to  detect  any- 
thing  in  his  looks  or  manner  short  of  the  most  solemn 
devoiion.  The  effect  which  his  conduct  had  upon  the 
congregation,  and  their  subsequent  remarks,  must  be 
left  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  I  give  but  one 
remark :  "  Bless  that  good  man  who  came  in  the  church 
so  quick,"  said  a  venerable  matron  as  she  left  the  church 
door,  "how  he  was  affected  by  the  garment." 

Ned  went  to  church  no  more  on  that  day.  About 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  while  he  was  standing  at 
the  tavern  door,  a  funeral  procession  passed  by,  at  the 
foot  of  which,  and  singly,  walked  one  of  the  smallest 
men  I  ever  saw.  As  soon  as  he  came  opposite  tho 
door,  Ned  stepped  out  and  joined  him  with  great  so 
lemnity.  The  contrast  between  the  two  was  ludicrous 
ly  striking,  and  the  little  man's  looks  and  uneasiness 
plainly  showed  that  he  felt  it.  However,  he  soon  be. 
came  reconciled  to  it.  They  proceeded  but  a  little 
way  before  Ned  inquired  of  his  companion  who  was 
dead. 

"  Mr.  Noah  Bills,"  said  the  littie  man. 

"  Nan  ?"  said  Ned,  raising  his  hand  to  his  ear  in  token 
of  deafness,  and  bending  his  head  to  the  speaker. 

"  Mr.  Noah  Bills,"  repeated  the  little  man,  loua 
enough  to  disturb  the  two  couple  immediately  before 
him. 

"Mrs.  Noel's  Bill!"  said  Ned,  with  mortification 
and  astonishment.  "  Do  the  white  persons  pay  such 


THE    CHARACTER   OF    A    NATIVE    C2ORG1AN.          41 

respect  to  niggers  in  Savannah  ?     J&ha'n't  do  it."     So 
saying,  he  left  the  procession. 

Tho  little  man  was  at  first  considerably  nettled  ;  but, 
upon  being  left  to  his  own  reflections,  he  got  into  an 
uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter,  as  did  the  couple  imme 
diately  in  advance  of  him,  who  overheard  Ned's  re- 
mark.  The  procession  now  exhibited  a  most  mortifying 
spectacle  :  the  head  of  it  in  mourning  and  in  tears,  and 
the  foot  of  it  convulsed  with  laughter. 

On  Monday  Ned  employed  himself  in  disposing  ol 
the  business  which  brought  him  to  Savannah,  and  I  saw 
but  little  of  him  ;  but  I  could  not  step  into  the  street 
without  hearing  of  him.  All  talked  about  him,  and 
hardly  any  two  agreed  about  his  character. 

On  Tuesday  he  visited  the  market,  and  set  it  all  in 
astonishment  or  laughter.  He  wanted  to  buy  something 
of  everybody,  and  some  of  everything ;  but  could  not 
agree  upon  the  terms  of  a  trade,  because  he  always 
wanted  his  articles  in  such  portions  and  numbers  as  no 
one  would  sell,  or  upon  conditions  to  which  no  one 
would  submit.  To  give  a  single  example :  he  beset 
an  old  negro  woman  to  sell  him  the  half  of  a  living 
chicken. 

"  Do,  my  good  mauma,  sell  it  to  me,"  said  he  ;  "  my 
wife  is  very  sick,  and  is  longing  for  chicken  pie,  and 
this  is  all  the  money  I  have"  (holding  out  twelve  and 
a  half  cents  in  silver),  "  and  it's  just  what  a  half  chicken 
comes  to  at  your  own  price." 

"  Ki,  masssa  !  how  gwine  cut  live  chicken  in  two  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  cut  it  in  two  alive  ;  kill  it,  clean 
it,  and  then  divide  it." 

"  Name  o'  God  !  what  sort  o'  chance  got  to  clean 
chicken  in  de  market-house  !  Whay  de  water  for  scali 
um  and  wash  urn  ?" 

"  Don't  scald  it  at  all ;  just  pick  it,  so." 

"  Ech-ech !  Fedder  fly  all  ober  de  buckera-man 
meat,  he  come  bang  me  fo'  true.  No,  massa,  I  might) 
sorry  for  your  wife,  but  I  no  cutty  chicken  open." 

In  the  afternoon  Ned  entered  the  dining-room  of  the 
tavern,  and  who  should  he  find  there  but  Monsieur  Sun 


40>         THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE 

eric,  of  oyster-house  memory.  He  and  the  tavern 
keeper  were  alone.  With  the  first  glimpse  of  Ned 
"La  diable,"  exclaimed  the  Frenchman,  "here  mj 
broder  Ichbod  'gain  !"  and  away  he  went. 

"  Mr.  Sancric  !"  said  the  landlord,  calling  to  him  as 
if  to  tell  him  something  just  thought  of,  and  following 
him  out,  "  what  did  you  say  that  man's  name  is  ?" 
"He  name  Monsieur  Snotborg." 
"  Why,  that  can't  be  his  name,  for  it  begins  with  H 
B.  or  an  R.     Where  is  he  from  ?" 
"From  Sand  Creek." 
"  Where  did  you  know  him  ?" 

"  Begar,  me  neber  did  know  him."  Here  Ned  saun- 
tered  in  sight  of  the  Frenchman,  and  he  vanished. 

"  Well,"  said  the  landlord,  as  he  returned,  "  it  does 
seem  to  me  that  everybody  who  has  anything  to  do 
with  that  man  runs  crazy  forthwith." 

When  he  entered  the  dining-room  he  found  Ned 
deeply  engaged  reading  a  child's  primer,  with  which 
he  seemed  wonderfully  delighted.  The  landlord  sat 
for  a  moment,  smiled,  and  then  hastily  left  the  room. 
As  soon  as  he  disappeared,  Ned  laid  down  his  book, 
and  took  his  station  behind  some  cloaks  in  the  bar, 
which  at  the  moment  was  deserted.  He  had  just 
reached  his  place  when  the  landlord  returned  with  his 
lady. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  first,  "  he's  gone  !  I  brought  you  in 
to  show  you  what  kind  of  books  your  man  of '  refined 
feelings  and  highly  cultivated  mind'  delights  in.  But 
he  has  left  his  book,  and  here  it  is,  opened  at  the  place 
where  he  left  off;  and  do  let's  see  what's  in  it  ?" 

They  examined,  and  found  that  he  had  been  reading 
the  interesting  poem  of"  Littlp  Jack  Homer." 

"  Now,"  continued  the  landlord,  "  if  you'll  believe 
me,  he  was  just  as  much  delighted  with  that  story,  as 
you  or  I  would  be  with  the  best  written  number  of  the 
Spectator." 

"  Well,  it's  vei-y  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Blank  ;  "  1 
reckon  he  must  be  flighty,  for  no  man  could  have  made 
a  more  gentlemanly  apology  than  he  did  to  me  for  his 


THE   CHARACTER   OF    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.  49 

pccii  iaritics,  and  no  one  could  have  urged  it  more 
feelii  gly." 

"  (.Jne  thing  is  very  certain,"  said  the  husband  ;  "  if 
he  be  not  flighty  himself,  he  has  a  wonderful  knack  of 
making  everybody  else  so.  Sancric  ran  away  from 
him  j.ast  now  as  if  he  had  seen  the  devil ;  called  him 
by  one  name  when  he  left  the  room,  by  another  at  the 
door,  told  me  where  he  came  from,  and  finally  swore 
he  did  not  know  him  at  all." 

Ned  having  slipped  softly  from  the  bar  into  the  entry 
during  this  interview,  entered  the  dining-room  as  if 
from  the  street. 

"  I  am  happy,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  to  meet  you  to- 
gether  and  aJone,  upon  the  eve  of  my  departure  from 
Savannah,  that  I  may  explain  to  you  my  singular  con. 

duct,  and  a; your  forgiveness  of  it.     I  will  do  so  if  you 

will  not  expose  my  true  character  until  I  shall  have  left 
»he  city." 

This  they  promised.  "  My  name,  then,"  continued 
he,  "  is  Edward  Brace,  of  Richmond  county.  Hu 
mour  has  been  my  besetting  sin  from  my  youth  up. 
It  has  sunk  me  far  below  the  station  to  which  my  na 
tive  gifts  entitled  me.  It  has  robbed  rne  of  the  respect 
of  all  my  acquaintances ;  and,  what  is  much  more  to 
be  regretted,  the  esteem  of  some  of  my  best  and  most 
indulgent  friends.  All  this  I  have  long  known  ;  and  I 
have  a  thousand  times  deplored,  and  as  often  resolved 
to  conquer,  my  self-destroying  propensity.  But  so 
deeply  is  it  wrought  into  my  very  nature,  so  completely 
and  indissolubly  interwoven  is  it  with  every  fibre  and 
filament  of  my  being,  that  I  have  found  it  impossible 
for  me  to  subdue  it.  Being  on  my  first  visit  to  Savan 
nah,  unknowing  and  unknown,  I  could  not  forego  the 
opportunity  which  it  furnished  of  gratifying  my  ungov 
ernable  proclivity.  All  the  extravagances  which  you 
have  seen  have  been  in  subservience  to  it." 

He  then  explained  the  cause  of  his  troubling  the 
kind  lady  before  him  to  give  him  his  meals  at  his 
room,  and  the  strange  conduct  of  Mousieur  Sancric; 
at  which  they  both  laughed  heartily.  He  referred  them 


DO  THE   CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVI,    GEORGIAN. 

to  me  for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  told  them.  Hav 
ing  gone  thus  far,  continued  he,  "  I  must  sustain  mj 
character  until  to-morrow,  when  I  shall  leave  Savan. 
nah." 

Having  now  two  more  to  enjoy  his  humour  with  him 
and  myself,  he  let  himself  loose  that  night  among  the 
boarders  with  all  his  strength,  and  never  did  I  see  two 
mortals  laugh  as  did  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blank. 

Far  as  I  have  extended  this  sketch,  I  cannot  close 
without  exhibiting  Ned  in  one  new  scene,  in  which  ac 
cident  placed  him  before  he  left  Savannah. 

About  2  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  our  departure, 
the  town  was  alarmed  by  the  cry  of  fire.  Ned  got  up 
before  me,  and  taking  one  of  my  boots  from  the  door 
and  putting  one  of  his  in  its  place,  he  marched  down 
to  the  front  door  with  odd  boots.  On  coming  out  and 
finding  what  had  been  done,  I  knew  that  Ned  could  not 
have  left  the  house,  for  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
wear  my  boot.  I  was  about  descending  the  stairs, 
when  he  called  to  me  from  the  front  door,  and  said  the 
servant  had  mixed  our  boots,  and  that  he  had  brought 
down  one  of  mine.  When  I  reached  the  front  door, 
I  found  Ned  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blank  there  ;  all  the 
inmates  of  the  house  having  left  it,  who  designed  to 
leave  it,  but  Ned  and  myself. 

"  Don't  go  and  leave  me,  Hall,"  said  he,  holding  my 
boot  in  his  hand,  and  having  his  own  on  his  leg. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you,"  said  I,  "  unless  you'll  give 
me  my  boot?"  This  he  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

"Do  run,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Blank,  greatly 
alarmed ;  "  Mr.  Brace,  you've  got  Mr.  Hall's  boot ; 
give  it  to  him." 

"  In  a  minute,  madam,"  said  he,  seeming  to  be  beside 
himself.  A  second  after,  however,  all  was  explained 
to  me.  He  designed  to  have  my  company  to  the  fire, 
and  his  own  fun  before  he  went. 

A  man  came  posting  along  in  great  alarm,  ancr  ci-v- 
ing  "  fire"  loudly. 

"  Mister,  mister,"  said  Ned,  jumping  out  of  the  hous<f 

"Sir."  said  the  man,  stoppirg  and  puffing  awfully 


THE    CHARACTER    OE    A    NATIVE    GEORGIAN.          51 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Peieg  Q.  C.  Stone  along  where 
you've  been  ?"  inquired  Ned,  with  anxious  solicitude. 

"P — n  Mr.  Peleg  Q.  C.  Stone,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  What  chance  have  I  of  seeing  anybody,  hopping  up 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  town  a  fire !" 
and  on  he  went. 

Thus  did  he  amuse  himself,  with  various  questions 
and  remarks  to  four  or  five  passengers,  until  even  Mrs. 
Blank  forgot  for  a  while  that  the  town  was  in  flames. 
The  last  object  of  his  sport  was  a  woman,  who  came 
along  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  it's  Mr.  Dalby's  house ;  I'm 
sure  it  is  Mr.  Dalby's  house1"  Two  gentlemen  assu 
red  her  that  the  fire  was  far  beyond  Mr.  Dalby's  house  ; 
but  still  she  went  on  with  her  exclamations.  When 
she  had  passed  the  door  about  ten  steps,  Ned  permitted 
me  to  cover  my  frozen  foot  with  my  boot,  and  we  moved 
on  towards  the  fire.  We  soon  overtook  the  woman 
just  mentioned,  who  had  become  somewhat  pacified. 
As  Ned  came  alongside  of  her,  without  seeming  to  no 
tice  her,  he  observed,  "  Poor  Dalby,  I  see  his  house  is 
gone." 

"  I  said  so,"  she  screamed  out ;  "  I  knew  it !"  and 
on  she  went,  screaming  ten  times  louder  than  before. 

As  soon  as  we  reached  the  fire,  a  gentleman  in  mil 
itary  dress  rode  up  and  ordered  Ned  into  the  line  to 
hand  buckets.  Ned  stepped  in,  and  the  first  bucket 
that  was  handed  to  him,  he  raised  it  very  deliberately 
to  his  mouth  and  began  to  drink.  In  a  few  seconds, 
all  on  Ned's  right  were  overburdened  with  buckets, 
and  calling  loudly  for  relief,  while  those  on  his  left  were 
unemployed.  Terrible  was  the  cursing  and  clamour 
and  twenty  voices  at  once  ordered  Ned  out  of  the  line 
Ned  stepped  out,  and  along  came  the  man  on  horseback, 
and  ordered  him  in  again. 

"  Captain,"  said  Ned, "  I  am  so  thirsty  that  I  can  do 
nothing  until  I  get  some  water,  and  they  will  not  let  me 
drink  in  the  line." 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  step  in,  and  I'll  see  that 
you  get  a  drink." 

Ned  stepped  in  ago  in,  ind  receiving  the  first  bucket 


b;2  UlE    CHARACTER    OF    A    NATIVE   GEORGIAN. 

began  to  raise  it  to  his  lips  very  slowly,  when  some 
one  hallooed  to  him  to  pass  on  the  bucket,  and  hd 
brought  it  down  again  and  handed  it  on. 

"  Why  didn't  you  drink?"  said  the  captain. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  they  won't  let  me  ?"  said  Ned. 

"Don't  mind  what  they  say;  drink,  and  then  go  on 
with  your  work." 

Ned  took  the  next  bucket,  and  commenced  raising 
it  as  before,  when  some  one  again  ordered  him  to  pass 
on  the  bucket. 

"  There,"  said  Ned,  turning  to  the  captain,  with  the 
bucket  half  raised,  "  you  hear  that  ?" 

"  Why,  blast  your  eyes,"  said  the  captain,  "  what 
do  you  stop  for?  Drink  on  and  have  done  with  it." 

Ned  raised  the  bucket  to  his  lips  and  drank,  or  pre 
tended  to  drink,  until  a  horse  might  have  been  satisfied. 

"  Ain't  you  done  ?"  said  the  captain,  general  mutiny 
and  complaint  beginning  to  prevail  in  the  line. 

"  Why,  ha'n't  you  drank  enough  ?"  said  the  captain, 
becoming  extremely  impatient. 

"  Most,"  said  Ned,  letting  out  a  long  breath,  and  still 
holding  the  bucket  near  his  lips. 

"  Zounds  and  blood  !"  cried  the  captain,  "  clear  your- 
self;  you'll  drink  an  engineful  of  water." 

Ned  left  the  ranks  and  went  to  his  lodgings ;  and 
the  rising  sun  found  us  on  our  way  homeward. 

HALL. 


THE   FIGHT.  53 


THE  FIGHT. 

IN  the  younger  days  of  the  Republic  there  lived  L, 

the  county  of two  men,  who  were  admitted  on  all 

hands  to  be  the  very  best  men  in  the  county ;  which,  in 
the  Georgia  vocabulary,  means  they  could  flog  any 
other  two  men  in  the  county.  Each,  through  many  a 
hard-fought  battle,  had  acquired  the  mastery  of  his  own 
battalion  ;  but  they  lived  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Court 
house,  and  in  different  battalions :  consequently,  they 
were  but  seldom  thrown  together.  When  they  met, 
however,  they  were  always  very  friendly  ;  indeed,  af 
their  first  interview,  they  seemed  to  conceive  a  won 
derful  attachment  to  each  other,  which  rather  increased 
than  diminished  as  they  became  better  acquainted ;  so 
that,  but  for  the  circumstance  which  1  am  about  to 
mention,  the  question,  which  had  been  a  thousand  time? 
asked,  "  Which  is  the  best  man,  Billy  Stallions  (Stall 
ings)  or  Bob  Durham  ?"  would  prohablv  never  have 
been  answered. 

Billy  ruled  the  upper  battalion,  and  Bok  the  lower. 
The  former  measured  six  feet  and  an  inch  in  his  stock 
ings,  and,  without  a  single  pound  of  cumbrous  flesh 
about  him,  weighed  a  hundred  and  eighty.  The  latter 
was  an  inch  shorter  than  his  rival,  and  ten  oounds 
lighter ;  but  he  was  much  the  most  active  of  the  two. 
In  running  and  jumping  he  had  but  few  equals  in  the 
county  ;  and  in  wrestling,  not  one.  In  other  resoects 
they  were  nearly  equal.  Both  wefe  admirable  sneci- 
mens  of  human  nature  in  its  finest  form  Billy's  vic 
tories  had  generally  been  achieved  by  the  tremendous 
power  of  his  blows,  one  of  which  had  often  proved  de 
cisive  of  his  battles  ;  Bob's,  by  his  adroitness  in  br'ig. 
ing  his  adversary  to  the  ground.  This  advantaxr<»  he 
had  never  failed  to  gain  at  the  onset,  and,  when  a-  n 
E2 


54  THE    FIGHT. 

ed  he  never  failed  to  improve  it  to  the  defeat  of  hia 
adversary.  These  points  of  difference  have  involved 
the  reader  in  a  doubt  as  to  the  probable  issue  of  a  con. 
test  between  them.  It  was  not  so,  however,  with  the 
two  battalions.  Neither  had  the  least  difficulty  in  de 
termining  the  point  by  the  most  natural  and  irresistible 
deductions  d priori;  and  though,  by  the  same  course 
of  reasoning,  they  arrived  at  directly  opposite  conclu 
sions,  neither  felt  its  confidence  in  the  least  shaken  by 
this  circumstance.  The  upper  battalion  swore  "  that 
Billy  only  wanted  one  lick  at  him  to  knock  his  heart, 
liver,  and  lights  out  of  him,  and  if  he  got  two  at  him, 
he'd  knock  him  into  a  cocked  hat."  The  lower  battal 
ion  retorted,  "  that  he  wouldn't  have  time  to  double  his 
fist  before  Bob  would  put  his  head  where  his  feet  ought 
to  be ;  and  that,  by  the  time  he  hit  the  ground,  the 
meat  would  fly  off  his  face  so  quick,  that  people  would 
think  it  was  shook  off  by  the  fall."  These  disputes 
often  led  to  the  argumentum  ad  hominem,  but  with  such 
equality  of  success  on  both  sides  as  to  leave  the  main 
question  just  where  they  found  it.  They  usually  end- 
ed,  however,  in  the  common  way,  with  a  bet ;  and 
many  a  quart  of  old  Jamaica  (whiskey  had  no*  then 
supplanted  rum)  were  staked  upon  the  issue.  Still, 
greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  the  curious,  Billy  and  Bob 
continued  to  be  good  friends. 

Now  there  happened  to  reside  in  the  county  just  al 
luded  to  a  little  fellow  by  the  name  of  Ransy  Sniffle  : 
a  sprout  of  Richmond,  who,  in  his  earlier  days,  had  fed 
copiously  upon  red  clay  and  blackberries.  This  diet 
had  g'.ven  to  Ransy  a  complexion  that  a  corpse  would 
have  disdained  to  own,  and  an  abdominal  rotundity 
that  was  quite  unprepossessing.  Long  spells  of  the 
fever  and  ague,  too,  in  Ransy's  youth,  had  conspired 
with  clay  and  blackberries  to  throw  him  quite  out  01 
the  order  of  nature.  His  shoulders  were  fleshless  and 
elevated ;  his  head  large  and  flat ;  his  neck  slim  and 
translucent ;  and  his  arms,  hands,  fingers,  and  feet 
were  lengthened  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  rest  of  his 
frame.  His  joints  were  large  and  his  limbs  small ;  and 


THE    FIGHT.  OO 

as  for  flesh,  he  could  not,  with  propriety,  be  said  to 
have  any.  Those  parts  which  nature  usually  supplies 
with  the  most  of  this  article — the  calves  of  the  legs, 
for  example — presented  in  him  the  appearance  of  so 
many  well-drawn  blisters.  His  height  was  just  five 
feet  nothing;  and  his  average  weight  in  blackberry 
season,  ninety-five.  I  have  been  thus  particular  in 
describing  him,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  what  a  great 
matter  a  little  fire  sometimes  kindleth.  There  was 
nothing  on  this  earth  which  delighted  Ransy  so  much 
as  a  fight.  He  never  seemed  fairly  alive  except  when 
he  was  witnessing,  fomenting,  or  talking  about  a  fight. 
Then,  indeed,  his  deep-sunken  gray  eye  assumed  some 
thing  of  a  living  fire,  and  his  tongue  acquired  a  volu 
bility  that  bordered  upon  eloquence.  Ransy  had  been 
kept  for  more  than  a  year  in  the  most  torturing  sus 
pense  as  to  the  comparative  manhood  of  Billy  Stallings 
and  Bob  Durham.  He  had  resorted  to  all  his  usual 
expedients  to  bring  them  in  collision,  and  had  entirely 
failed.  He  had  faithfully  reported  to  Bob  all  that  had 
been  said  by  the  people  in  the  upper  battalion  "  agin 
him,"  and  "  he  was  sure  Billy  Stallings  started  it.  He 
heard  Billy  say  himself  to  Jim  Brown,  that  he  could 
whip  him,  or  any  other  man  in  his  battalion ,-"  and  this 
he  told  to  Bob  ;  adding,  "  Dod  darn  his  soul,  if  he  was 
a  little  bigger,  if  he'd  let  any  man  put  upon  his  battal 
ion  in  such  a  way."  Bob  replied,  "  If  he  (Stallings) 
thought  so,  he'd  better  come  and  try  it."  This  Ransy 
carried  to  Billy,  and  delivered  it  with  a  spirit  becoming 
his  own  dignity  and  the  character  of  his  battalion,  and 
with  a  colouring  well  calculated  to  give  it  effect.  These, 
and  many  other  schemes  which  Ransy  laid  for  tho 
gratification  of  his  curiosity,  entirely  failed  of  their  ob 
ject.  Billy  and  Bob  continued  friends,  and  Ransy  had 
began  to  lapse  into  the  most  tantalizing  and  hopeless 
despair,  when  a  circumstance  occurred  which  led  to  a 
settlement  of  ihe  long-disputc-d  question. 

It  is  said  that  a  hundred  gamecocks  will  live  in  per- 
feet  harmony  together  if  you  do  not  put  a  hen  witii 
Oiem  ;  and  so  it  would  nave  but  n  with  Billy  and  Boh 


5(3  THE    FIGHT. 

had  there  been  no  women  in  the  world.  But  there 
were  women  in  the  world,  and  from  them  each  of  our 
heroes  had  taken  to  himself  a  wife.  The  good  ladies 
were  no  strangers  to  the  prowess  of  their  husbands, 
and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  they  presumed  a  little 
upon  it. 

The  two  battalions  had  met  at  the  Courthouse  upon 
k  regimental  parade.  The  two  champions  were  there, 
and  their  wives  had  accompanied  them.  Neither  knew 
the  other's  lady,  nor  were  the  ladies  known  to  each 
other.  The  exercises  of  the  day  were  just  over,  when 
Mrs.  Stallings  and  Mrs.  Durham  stepped  simultaneous- 
iy  into  the  store  of  Zephaniah  Atwater,  from  "  down 
east." 

"  Have  you  any  Turkey-red  ?"  said  Mrs.  S. 

"  Have  you  any  curtain  calico  ?"  said  Mrs.  D.  at  the 
same  moment. 

"  Yes,  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Atwater,  "  I  have  both." 

"TL-n  help  me  first,"  said  Mrs.  D.,  "for  I'm  in  a 
hurry." 

"  I'm  in  as  great  a  hurry  as  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  S., 
'•and  I'll  thank  you  to  help  rne  first." 

"  And,  pray,  who  are  you,  madam  ?"  continued  the 
other. 

"  Your  betters,  madam,"  was  the  reply. 

At  this  moment  Billy  Stallings  stepped  in.  "Come," 
said  he,  "  Nancy,  let's  be  going ;  it's  getting  late." 

"  I'd  a  been  gone  half  an  hour  ago,"  she  replied,  "il 
it  hadn't  a'  been  for  that  impudent  huzzy." 

"  Who  do  you  call  an  impudent  huzzy,  you  nasty, 
good-for-nothing,  snaggle-toothed  gaub  of  fat,  you  ?"  re- 
turned  Mrs.  D. 

"  Look  here,  woman,"  said  Billy,  "  have  you  got  a 
husband  here  ?  If  you  have,  I'll  lick  him  till  he  learns 
to  teach  you  better  manners,  you  sassy  heifer  you.' 
At  this  moment  something  was  seen  to  rush  out  of  the 
store  as  if  ten  thousand  hornets  were  stinging  it ;  cry- 
ing,  "  Take  care — let  me  go — don't  hold  me — where'a 
Bob  Durham  ?"  It  was  Ransy  Sniffle,  who  had  been 
Ms.ening  in  breathless  delight  to  all  that  had  parsed 


THE    P      HT.  57 

"Youde*'s  Bob,  setting  om  the  Courthoase  steps," 
cried  one  "  What's  the  matter  ?" 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  !"  said  Ransy.  "  Bob  Durham^ 
you'd  better  go  long  yonder,  and  take  care  of  yout 
wife.  They're  playing  h — 1  with  her  there,  in  Zeph 
Atwater'a  store.  Dod  etarnally  darn  my  soul,  if  any 
man  was  to  talk  to  my  wife  as  Bill  Stallions  is  talking 
to  yours,  if  I  wouldn't  drive  blue  blazes  through  him 
in  iess  than  no  time." 

Bob  sprang  to  the  store  in  a  minute,  followed  by  a 
hundred  friends  ;  for  the  bully  of  a  county  never  wants 
friends. 

"  Bill  Stallions,"  said  Bob,  as  he  entered,  "  what  have 
you  been  saying  to  my  wife  ?" 

"  Is  that  your  wife  ?"  inquired  Billy,  obviously  much 
surprised  and  a  little  disconcerted. 

"Yes,  she  is,  and  no  man  shall  abuse  her,  I  don't 
care  who  he  is." 

"  Well,"  rejoined  Billy,  "  it  an't  worth  while  to  go 
oyer  it ;  I've  said  enough  for  a  fight :  and,  if  you'U 
step  out,  we'll  settle  it !" 

"  Billy,"  said  Bob,  "  are  you  for  a  fair  fight  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Billy.  "  I've  heard  much  of  your  man. 
hood,  and  I  believe  I'm  a  better  man  than  you  are.  If 
you  will  go  into  a  ring  with  me,  we  can  soon  settle 
the  dispute." 

"  Choose  your  friends,"  said  Bob  ;  "  make  your  ring, 
and  I'll  be  in  with  mine  as  soon  as  you  will." 

They  both  stepped  out,  and  began  to  strip  very  de 
liberately,  each  battalion  gathering  round  its  champion, 
except  Ransy,  who  kept  himself  busy  in  a  most  honest 
endeavour  to  hear  and  see  all  that  transpired  in  both 
groups  at  the  same  time.  He  ran  from  one  to  the  other 
in  quick  succession  ;  peeped  here  and  listened  there  ; 
talked  to  this  one.  then  to  that  one,  and  then  to  him- 
seif ;  squatted  under  one's  legs  and  another's  arms 
and,  in  the  short  interval  between  stripping  and  step 
ping  into  the  ring,  managed  to  get  himself  trod  on  by 
half  of  both  battalions.  But  Ransy  was  net  the  only 
one  interested  upon  this  occasion  ;  the  most  intense 


58  THE    FIGHT. 

interest  prevailed  everywhere.  Many  were  the  con. 
jectures,  doubts,  oaths,  and  imprecations  uttered  while 
the  partie.-j  were  preparing  for  the  comoat.  All  the 
knowing  ones  were  consulted  as  to  the  issue,  and  they 
all  agreed,  to  a  man,  in  one  of  two  opinions :  either 
that  Bob  would  flog  Billy,  or  Billy  would  flog  Bob. 
We  must  be  permitted,  however,  to  dwell  for  a  mo- 
ment  upon  the  opinion  of  Squire  Thomas  Loggins ;  a 
man  who,  it  was  said,  had  never  failed  to  predict  the 
issue  of  a  fight  in  all  his  life.  Indeed,  so  unerring  had 
he  always  proved  in  this  regard,  that  it  would  have 
been  counted  the  most  obstinate  infidelity  to  doubt  for 
a  moment  after  he  had  delivered  himself.  Squire 
Loggins  was  a  man  who  said  but  little,  but  that  little 
was  always  delivered  with  the  most  imposing  solemnity 
of  look  and  cadence.  He  always  wore  the  aspect  of 
profound  thought,  and  you  could  not  look  at  him  with- 
out  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  elaborating 
truth  from  its  most  intricate  combinations. 

"  Uncle  Tommy,"  said  Sam  Reynolds, "  you  can  tell 
us  all  about  it  if  you  will ;  how  will  the  fight  go  ?" 

The  question  immediately  drew  an  anxious  group 
around  the  squire.  He  raised  his  teeth  slowly  from 
the  head  of  his  walking  cane,  on  which  they  had  been 
resting ;  pressed  his  lips  closely  and  thoughtfully  to 
gether  ;  throw  down  his  eyebrows,  dropped  his  chin, 
raised  his  eyes  to  an  angle  of  twenty-three  degrees, 
paused  abr»ut  half  a  minute,  and  replied,  "  Sammy, 
watch  Robert  Durham  close  in  the  beginning  of  the 
fight ;  take  care  of  William  Stallions  in  the  middle  of 
it ;  and  see  who  has  the  wind  at  the  end."  As  he  ut 
tered  the  last  member  of  the  sentence,  he  looked  slylj 
at  Bob's  friends,  and  winked  very  significantly  ;  where 
upon  they  rushed,  with  one  accord,  to  tell  Bob  wha 
Unclo  Tommy  had  said.  As  they  retired,  the  squin 
turned  to  Billy's  friends,  and  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Them 
boys  think  I  mean  that  Bob  will  whip." 

Here  the  other  party  kindled  into  joy,  and  hastened 
to  inform  Billy  how  Bob's  friends  had  deceived  them, 
selves  as  to  Uncle  Tommy's  opinion.  In  -.he  mean  time 


THE   FIGHV.  59 

the  principals  and  seconds  were  busily  employed  in  pre. 
paring  themselves  for  the  combat.  The  plan  of  attack 
and  defence,  the  manner  of  improving  the  various  turns 
of  the  conflict,  "  the  best  mode  of  saving  wind,"  &c., 
&c.,  were  all  discussed  and  settled.  At  length  Billy 
announced  himself  ready,  and  his  crowd  were  seen 
moving  to  the  centre  of  the  Courthouse  Square ;  he  and 
his  five  seconds  in  the  rear.  At  the  same  time,  Bob's 
party  moved  to  the  same  point,  and  in  the  same  order. 
The  ring  was  now  formed,  and  for  a  moment  the  silence 
•of  death  reigned  through  both  battalions.  It  was  soon 
interrupted,  however,  by  the  cry  of  "  Clear  the  way  !" 
from  Billy's  seconds  ;  when  the  ring  opened  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  upper  battalion  (for  the  order  of  march  had 
arranged  the.  centre  of  the  two  battalions  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  circle),  and  Billy  stepped  into  the  ring  from 
the  east,  followed  by  his  friends.  He  was  stripped  to 
the  trousers,  and  exhibited  an  arm,  breast,  and  shoul 
ders  of  the  most  tremendous  portent.  His  step  was 
firm,  daring,  and  martial ;  and  as  he  bore  his  fine  form 
a  little  in  advance  of  his  friends,  an  involuntary  burst 
of  triumph  broke  from  his  side  of  the  ring  ;  and,  at  the 
same  moment,  an  uncontrollable  thrill  of  awe  ran  along 
the  whole  curve  of  the  lower  battalion. 

"  Look  at  him  !"  was  heard  from  his  friends  ;  "just 
look  at  him." 

"  Ben,  how  much  you  ask  to  stand  before  that  man 
two  seconds?" 

"  Pshaw,  don't  talk  about  it !  Just  thinkin'  about 
it  's  broke  three  o'  my  ribs  a'ready  !" 

"  What's  Bob  Durham  going  to  do  when  Billy  let'a 
that  arm  loose  upon  him  ?" 

"  God  bless  your  soul,  he'll  think  thunder  and  light- 
nlng  a  mint  julip  to  it." 

"  Oh,  look  here,  men,  go  take  Bill  Stallions  out  o'  that 
ring,  and  bring  in  Phil  Johnson's  stud  horse,  so  that 
Durham  may  have  some  chance  !  I  don't  want  to  see 
the  man  killed  right  away." 

These  and  many  other  like  expressions,  interspersed 
thickly  with  oaths  of  the  most  modern  coinage,  were 


60  THE  FIGHT. 

coming  from  all  points  of  the  upper  battalion,  while  Bob 
was  adjusting  the  girth  of  his  pantaloons,  which  walk 
ing  had  discovered  not  to  be  exactly  right.  It  was  just 
fixed  to  his  mind,  his  foes  becoming  a  little  noisy,  and 
his  friends  a  little  uneasy  at  his  delay,  when  Billy  called 
cut,  with  a  smile  of  some  meaning,  "  Where's  the  bully 
of  the  lower  battalion  ?  I'm  getting  tired  of  waiting." 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  Bob,  lighting,  as  it  seemed,  from 
th<  clouds  into  the  ring,  for  he  had  actually  bounded 
clear  of  the  head  of  Ransy  Sniffle  into  the  circle.  His 
descent  was  quite  as  imposing  as  Billy's  entry,  and  ex- 
cited  the  same  feelings,  but  in  opposite  bosoms. 

Voices  of  exultation  now  rose  on  his  side. 
Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  one  of  his  seconds  (all  having  just  en- 
.ered),  "  we  were  girting  him  up,  about  a  hundred 
yards  out  yonder,  when  he  heard  Billy  ask  for  the  bu,1  • 
ly ;  and  he  fetched  a  leap  over  the  Courthouse,  and  went 
out  of  sight ;  but  I  told  them  to  come  on,  they'd  find 
him  here." 

Here  the  lower  battalion  burst  into  a  peal  of  laugh- 
ter,  mingled  with  a  look  of  admiration,  which  seemed 
to  denote  their  entire  belief  of  what  they  had  heard. 

"  Boys,  widen  the  ring,  so  as  to  give  him  room  to 
jump." 

"  Oh,  my  little  flying  wild-cat,  hold  him  if  you  can ! 
and,  when  you  get  him  fast,  hold  lightning  next." 

"  Ned,  what  do  you  think  he's  made  of?" 

"  Steel  springs  and  chicken-hawk,  God  bless  you  !" 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  one  of  Bob's  seconds,  "  I  under, 
stand  it  is  to  be  a  fair  fight ;  catch  as  catch  can,  rough 
and  tumble  :  no  man  touch  till  one  or  the  other  hal 
loos." 

"  That's  the  rule,"  was  the  reply  from  the  other  side. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?" 

"  We  are  ready." 

"  Then  blaze  away,  my  game  cocks  !" 

At  the  word,  Bob  dashed  at  his  antagonist  at  full 
speed  ;  and  Bill  squared  himself  to  receive  him  with 
one  of  his  most  fatal  blows.  Making  his  calculation 


THE    FIGHT.  6 

from  Bob's  velocity,  of  the  time  when  lie  would  come 
within  striking  distance,  he  let  drive  with  tremendous 
force.  But  Bob's  onset  was  obviously  planned  to  avoid 
this  biow  ;  for,  contrary  to  all  expectations,  he  stopped 
short  just  out  of  arm's  reach,  and,  before  Billy  could 
iccover  his  balance,  Bob  had  him  "  all  under-hold." 
The  next  second,  sure  enough,  "  found  Billy's  head 
where  his  feet  ought  to  be."  How  it  was  done  no  one 
could  tell ;  but,  as  if  by  supernatural  power,  both 
Billy's  feet  were  thrown  full  half  his  own  height  in  the 
air,  and  he  came  down  with  a  force  that  seemed  to 
shake  the  earth.  As  he  struck  the  ground,  commingled 
shouts,  screams,  and  yells  burst  from  the  lower  battal 
ion,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  for  miles.  "  Hurra,  my 
little  hornet !"  "  Save  him  !"  "  Feed  him  !"  "  Give 
him  the  Durham  physic  till  his  stomach  turns !"  Billy 
was  no  sooner  down  than  Bob  was  on  him,  and  lending 
him  awful  blows  about  the  face  and  breast.  Billy  made 
two  efforts  to  rise  by  main  strength,  but  failed.  "  Lord 
bless  you,  man,  donrt  try  to  get  up  !  Lay  still  and  take 
/  it !  you  bleege  to  have  it !" 

Billy  now  turned  his  face  suddenly  to  the  ground,  and 
rose  upon  his  hands  and  knees.  Bob  jerked  up  both 
Ins  hands  and  threw  him  on  his  face.  He  again  re 
covered  his  late  position,  of  which  Bob  endeavoured  to 
deprive  him  as  before  ;  but,  missing  one  arm,  he  failed, 
and  Billy  rose.  But  he  had  scarcely  resumed  his  feet 
•aefore  they  flew  up  as  before,  and  he  came  again  to 
the  ground.  "No  fight,  gentlemen!"  cried  Bob's 
friends  ;  "  the  man  can't  st;  .nd  up  !  Bouncing  feet  are 
bad  things  to  fight  in."  His  fall,  however,  was  this  time 
comparatively  light ;  for,  having  thrown  his  right  arm 
round  Bob's  neck,  he  carried  his  head  down  with  him. 
This  grasp,  which  was  obstinately  maintained,  prevent 
ed  Bob  from  getting  on  him,  and  they  lay  head  to  head 
seaming,  for  a  time,  to  do  nothing.  Presently  thej 
rose,  as  if  by  mutual  consent  ;  ard,  as  they  rose,  a 
shout  burst  from  both  battalions.  "  Oh,  my  lark  !'' 
cried  the  east,  "  has  he  foxed  you  ?  Do  you  begin  to 
F 


02  THE   FIGHT. 

feel  him  !     He's  only  beginning  to  fight  ;  he  ain't  gol 
warm  yet." 

"  Look  yonder  !"  cried  the  west ;  "  didn't  I  tell  you 
so  !  He  hit  the  ground  so  hard  it  jarred  his  nose  off. 
Now  ain't  he  a  pretty  man  as  he  stands  ?  He  shall 
have  my  sister  Sal  just  for  his  pretty  looks.  I  want  to 
get  in  the  breed  of  them  sort  o'  men,  to  drive  ugly  out 
of  my  kinfolks." 

I  looked,  and  saw  that  Bob  had  entirely  lost  his  left 
car,  and  a  large  piece  from  his  left  cheek.  His  right 
eye  was  a  little  discoloured,  and  the  blood  flowed  pro- 
fusely  from  his  wounds. 

Bill  presented  a  hideous  spectacle.  About  a  third  of 
lis  nose,  at  the  lower  extremity,  was  bit  off,  and  his 
face  so  swelled  and  bruised  that  it  was  difficult  to  dis 
cover  in  it  anything  of  the  human  visage,  much  more 
the  fine  features  which  he  carried  into  the  ring. 

They  were  up  only  long  enough  for  me  to  make  the 
foregoing  discoveries,  when  down  they  went  again,  pre 
cisely  as  before.  They  no  sooner  touched  the  ground 
than  Bill  relinquished  his  hold  upon  Bob's  neck.  In 
this  he  seemed  to  all  to  have  forfeited  the  only  advan 
tage  which  put  him  upon  an  equality  with  his  adversary. 
But  the  movement  was  soon  explained.  Bill  wanted 
this  arm  for  other  purposes  than  defence  ;  and  he  had 
made  arrangements  whereby  he  knew  that  he  could 
make  it  answer  these  purposes ;  for,  when  they  rose 
again,  he  had  the  middle  finger  of  Bob's  left  hand  in 
his  mouth.  He  was  now  secure  from  Bob's  annoying 
trips  ;  and  he  began  to  lend  his  adversary  tremendous 
olows,  every  one  of  which  was  hailed  by  a  shout  from 
nis  friends.  "Bullets!"  "Hoss-kicking  !"  "Thunder!" 
That'll  do  for  his  face  ;  now  feel  his  short  ribs,  Billy !" 

I  now  considered  the  contest  settled.  I  deemed  it 
impossible  for  any  human  being  to  withstand  for  five 
seconds  the  loss  of  blood  which  issued  from  Bob's  ear 
cheek,  nose,  and  finger,  accompanied  with  such  blows 
as  he  wai  receiving.  Still  he  maintained  the  conflict, 
and  gave  blow  for  blow  with  considerable  effect.  But 
the  blows  of  each  became  slower  and  weaker  after  the 


THE    FIOHT.  68 

first  three  or  four ;  and  it  became  obvious  that  BiL 
wanted  the  room  which  Bob's  finger  occupied  for  breath, 
ing.  He  would  therefore,  probably,  in  a  short  time, 
have  let  it  go,  had  not  Bob  anticipated  his  politeness  by 
jerking  away  his  hand,  and  making  him  a  present  of 
the  finger.  He  now  seized  Bill  again,  and  brought  him 
to  his  knees,  but  he  recovered.  He  again  brought  him 
to  his  knees,  and  he  again  recovered.  A  third  effort, 
however,  brought  him  down,  and  Bob  on  top  of  him 
These  efforts  seemed  to  exhaust  the  little  remaining 
strength  of  both  ;  and  they  lay,  Bill  undermost  and  Bob 
across  his  breast,  motionless,  and  panting  for  breath. 
After  a  short  pause,  Bob  gathered  his  hand  full  of  dirt 
and  sand,  and  was  in  the  act  of  grinding  it  in  his  ad- 
versary's  eyes,  when  Bill  cried  "  ENOUGH  !"  Language 
cannot  describe  the  scene  that  followed  ;  the  shouts, 
oaths,  frantic  gestures,  taunts,  replies,  and  little  fights, 
and  therefore  I  shall  not  attempt  it.  The  champions 
were  borne  off  by  their  seconds  and  washed  ;  when 
many  a  bleeding  wound  and  ugly  bruise  was  discovered 
on  each  which  no  eye  had  seen  before. 

Many  had  gathered  round  Bob,  and  were  in  various 
ways  congratulating  and  applauding  him,  when  a  voice 
from  the  centre  of  the  circle  cried  out,  "  Boys,  hush 
and  listen  to  me  !"  It  proceeded  from  Squire  Loggins, 
who  had  made  his  way  to  Bob's  side,  and  had  gathered 
his  face  up  into  one  of  its  most  flattering  and  intelligible 
expressions.  All  were  obedient  to  the  squire's  com- 
mand.  "  Gentlemen,"  continued  he,  with  a  most  know 
ing  smile,  "is — Sammy — Reynold — in — this — compa 
ny — of — gentlemen  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam,  "here  I  am." 

"  Sammy,"  said  the  squire,  winking  to  the  company 
and  drawing  the  head  of  his  cane  to  his  mouth  with  an 
arch  smile  as  he  closed,  "  I — wish — you — to  tell — cous 
in —  Bobby — and — these — gentlemen  here  present — 
what — your — Uncle — Tommy — said  —  before — the — 
fight — began  ?" 

"  Oh  !  get  away,  Uncle  Tom,"  said  Sam,  smiling 
(the  squire  winked),  " you  don't  know  nnthinc  aoou 


64  THE    FIGHT. 

fighting."  (The  squire  winked  again.)  '-All  }ou 
know  about  it  is  how  it'll  begin,  Kow  it'll  ^u  on,  how 
it'll  end ;  that's  all.  Cousin  Bob,  when  you  going  tc 
fight  again,  just  go  to  the  old  man,  and  let.  him  tell  you 
all  about  it.  If  he  can't,  don't  ask  nobody  eLe  nothing 
about  it,  I  tell  you." 

The  squire's  foresight  was  complimented  in  many 
Ways  by  the  by-standers  ;  and  he  retired,  advising  "  the 
Boys  to  be  at  peace,  as  fighting  was  a  bad  business." 

Durham  and  Stallings  kept  their  beds  for  several 
weeks,  and  did  lot  meet  again  for  two  months.  When 
they  met,  Billy  stepped  up  to  Bob  and  offered  his  hand, 
saying,  "  Bobby,  you've  licked  me  a  fair  fight ;  but  you 
vouldn't  have  done  it  if  I  hadn't  been  in  the  wrong.  I 
oughn't  to  have  treated  your  wife  as  I  did ;  and  I  felt 
so  through  the  whrle  fight ;  and  it  sort  o'  cowed  me." 

"  Well,  Billy,"  said  Bob,  "let's  be  friends.  Once  in 
the  fight,  when  you  had  my  finger  in  your  mouth,  and 
was  pealing  me  in  the  face  and  breast,  I  was  going  to  hal 
loo  ;  but  I  thought  of  Petsy,  and  knew  the  house  would 
be  too  hot  for  me  if  I  got  whipped  when  fighting  foi 
her,  after  always  whipping  when  I  fought  for  myself." 

"Now  that's  what  I  alvays  love  to  see,"  said  a  by 
stander.  "  It's  true  I  bropght  about  the  fight,  but  1 
wouldn't  have  done  it  if  it  hadn't  o'  been  on  account 
of  Miss  (Mrs.)  Durham.  Brt  e"od  etarnally  darn  my 
soul,  if  I  ever  could  stand  by  rrd  see  any  woman  pu* 
upon,  much  less  Miss  Durham.  \f  Bobby  hadn't  been 
there,  I'd  o'  took  it  up  myself,  be  darned  if  I  wouldn't, 
even  if  I'd  o'  got  whipped  for  it.  B1U  we're  all  friends 
now."  The  reader  need  hardly  oe  told  that  this  was 
Ransy  Sniffle. 

Thanks  to  the  Christian  religion,  to  schools,  colleges. 
and  benevolent  associations,  such  scenes  of  barbarism 
and  cruelty  as  that  which  I  have  been  j-ist  describmp 
are  now  of  rare  occurrence,  though  they  moy  still  be 
occasionally  met  with  in  some  of  the  new  counties 
Wherever  they  prevail,  they  are  a  disgrace  to  tha> 
sommunity.  The  peace-officers  wh )  countenance  their 
deserve  a  place  in  the  Penitentiary, 

HALL 


THE   SONG  6t 


THE   SONG. 

IT  is  not  to  avoid  the  malediction  cf  Shakspeare  upou 
such  "  as  have  not  music  in  themselves,  and  are  not 
charmed  with  the  concord  of  sweet  sounds,"  that  I  pro 
fess  to  be  fond  of  music ;  but  because  I  am,  in  truth, 
extravagantly  fond  of  it.  But  I  am  not  fond  of  French 
music  ;  and  as  for  the  Italian,  I  think  that  any  one  who 
will  dare  to  inflict  it  upon  an  American  ear,  ought  to  be 
sent  to  the  Penitentiary  without  a  trial.  It  is  true  that 
some  of  the  simple,  national  French  airs  are  very  fine  ; 
but  there  is  not  one  in  a  thousand  Italian  tunes,  simple 
or  compound,  which  is  not  manslaughter.  The  German 
compositions  are  decidedly  the  best  from  the  Continent 
of  Europe ;  but  even  these  are,  of  late,  partaking  so 
much  of  the  vices  of  France  and  Italy,  that  they  have 
become  scarcely  sufFerable.  As  yet,  however,  they 
may  be  safely  admitted  into  a  land  of  liberty  and  sense. 
Scotland  has  escaped  the  corruptions  which  have  crept 
into  the  empire  of  music,  and,  consequently,  her  music 
recommends  itself,  with  irresistible  charms,  to  every 
ear  which  is  not  vitiated  by  the  senseless  rattle  of  the 
Continent.  Ireland  is  a  little  more  contaminated ;  but 
still  her  compositions  retain  enough  of  their  primi 
tive  simplicity  and  sweetness  to  entitle  them  to  the 
patronage  of  all  who  would  cultivate  a  correct  taste  in 
this  interesting  department  of  the  fine  arts.  I  would 
not  be  understood  as  speaking  here  without  any  limit 
ations  or  restrictions ;  but  I  do  maintain,  that,  with 
some  few  exceptions,  all  of  the  soul  of  music  which  ia 
now  left  in  the  world  is  to  be  found  in  Scotland  or 
Ireland. 

But  Germans,  Frenchmen,  and  Italians  are  decidedlj 
the  best,  that  is,  the  most  expert  performers  in  the  world 
They  perform  all  over  the  world,  and,  in  order  tu  ex 
F2 


66  THE    SONG. 

hibit  themselves  to  the  best  advantage,  they  select  the 
most  difficult  and  complicated  pieces.  The  people  at 
large  presume  that  the  best  performers  must  be  the 
best  judges  of  music,  and  must  make  the  best  selec 
tions  ;  they  therefore  forego  the  trouble  of  forming  an 
opinion  of  their  own,  and  pin  their  faith  upon  the  de- 
cisions,  or,  rather,  the  practice  of  the  amateurs.  It 
was  somehow  in  this  way,  I  presume,  that  the  fashion 
able  music  of  the  day  first  obtained  currency.  Hav 
ing  become  prevalent,  it  has  become  tolerable  ;  just  as 
has  the  use  of  tobacco  or  ardent  spirits.  And,  while 
upon  this  head,  I  would  earnestly  recommend  to  the 
friends  of  reform  in  our  favoured  country  to  establish 
an  "  Anti-mad-music  Society,"  in  order  to  suppress,  if 
possible,  the  cruelties  of  our  modern  musical  entertain 
ments. 

If  the  instrumental  music  of  France  and  Italy  be 
bad,  their  vocal  music  is,  if  possible,  a  thousand  times 
worse.  Neither  the  English  nor  the  Georgia  language. 
furnishes  me  with  a  term  expressive  of  the  horrors  ol 
a  French  or  Italian  song,  as  it  is  agonized  forth  by  one 
of  their  professed  singers.  The  law  should  make  it 
'ustifiable  homicide  in  any  man  to  kill  an  Italian  in  the 
very  act  of  inflicting  an  il  penseroso  upon  a  refined 
American  ear. 

And  yet,  with  all  the  other  European  abominations 
which  have  crept  into  our  highly-favoured  country,  the 
French  and  Italian  style  of  singing  and  playing  has 
made  its  way  hither ;  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  hear 
our  boarding-school  misses  piping  away,  not  merely  in 
•he  style,  but  in  the  very  language  of  these  nations. 
This  I  can  bear  very  well  if  there  happen  to  be  a 
Frenchman  or  an  Italian  present,  because  I  know  that 
fie  suffers  more  from  the  words  than  I  do  from  the  music ; 
tbr  I  confess  that  upon  such  occasions  I  feel  something 
jf  the  savage  malignity  which  visits  the  sins  of  a  nation 
apon  any  of  its  citizens.  But  it  most  frequently  hap. 
j»ens  that  I  am  put  to  the  tortures  of  which  I  have  been 
jpeaV\ng  without  this  mitigation.  It  was  thus  with 
»ne  •<  ftw  evenings  ago,  at  Mrs.  B 's  party. 


1HE    SONG  67 

Tea  had  been  disposed  of,  and  the  nonsensical  chit 
chat  of  such  occasions  had  begun  to  flag,  when  I  invi 
ted  Miss  Mary  Williams  to  the  piano.  She  rose  prompt 
ly  at  my  request,  without  any  affected  airs,  and  with 
no  other  apology  than  that  "  she  felt  some  diffidence  at 
playing  in  the  presence  of  Miss  Crump."  The  piano 
was  an  admirable  one,  and  its  tones  were  exquisitely 
fine.  Mary  seated  herself  at  it,  and,  after  a  short  but 
beautiful  prelude,  she  commenced  one  of  Burns's  plain- 
tive  songs,  to  a  tune  which  was  new  to  me,  but  which 
was  obviously  from  the  poet's  own  lund,  and  by  one  who 
felt  the  inspiration  of  his  verse.  The  composer  and  the 
poet  were  both  honoured  by  the  performer.  Mary's 
voice  was  inimitably  fine.  Her  enunciation  was  clear 
and  distinct,  with  just  emphasis  enough  to  give  the 
verse  its  appropriate  expression,  without  interrupting 
the  melody  of  the  music ;  and  her  modulations  were 
perfect. 

She  had  closed,  and  was  in  the  act  of  rising,  before 
I  awoke  from  the  delightful  revery  into  which  she  had 
lulled  me.  I  arrested  her,  however,  and  insisted  upon 
her  proceeding ;  when  she  gave  me  one  of  Allan  Ram- 
sey's  best,  to  measure  equally  appropriate.  This  she 
followed  with  Tannahill's  "  Gloomy  Winter's  now  awa," 
and  was  again  retiring,  when  my  friend  Hall  observed, 
"  See,  Miss  Mary,  you've  brought  a  tear  to  Mr.  Bald- 
win's  eye,  and  you  must  not  cease  until  you  chase  it 
away  with  some  lively  air."  My  friend  was  right. 
The  touching  pathos  of  Mary's  voice,  conspiring  with  a 
train  of  reflections  which  the  song  inspired,  had  really 
brought  me  to  tears.  I  thought  of  poor  Tannahill's  fate. 
He  was  the  victim  of  a  bookseller's  stupidity.  With 
men  of  taste  and  letters,  his  fugitive  pieces,  particular, 
iy  his  lyrics,  had  gained  him  a  well-deserved  reputa 
tion  ;  but  he  was  not  exempt  from  the  common  lot  ot 
authors.  He  was  attacked  by  the  ignorant  and  the 
invidious ;  and,  with  the  hopeless  design  of  silencing 
these,  he  prepared  a  volume  or  more  of  his  poems  with 
great  care,  and  sent  them  to  a  bookseller  for  publication. 
After  the  lapse  rf  several  weeks,  they  were  returned 


68  TIIK    SO\O. 

without  a  compliment,  or  an  offer  for  them  The  mol 
lification  and  disappointment  were  too  severe  for  his 
reason.  It  deserted  him,  and  soon  after  he  was  found 
dead  in  a  tunnel  of  the  hum  which  had  heen  the  s.cene 
of  one  of  his  earliest  songs.  Unfortunately,  in  his  mad 
ness  he  destroyed  his  favourite  works. 

Such  was  the  train  of  reflection  from  which  Mary 
was  kind  enough,  at  the  request  of  my  friend,  to  relieve 
me  by  a  lively  Irish  air.  Had  it  not  been  admirably  se 
lected,  I  could  hardly  have  borne  the  transition.  But 
there  was  enough  of  softening  melody,  mingled  with  the 
sprightliness  of  the  air,  to  lead  me  gently  to  a  gayei 
mood,  in  which  she  left  me. 

In  the  mean  time,  most  of  the  young  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  had  formed  a  circle  round  Miss  Aurelia  Emma 
Theodosia  Augusta  Crump,  and  were  earnestly  enga 
ged  in  pressing  her  to  play.  One  young  lady  even  went 
so  far  as  to  drop  on  her  knees  before  her,  and  in  this 
posture  to  beseech  "  her  dear  Augusta  just  to  play  the 

delightful  overture  of ,"  something  that  sounded 

to  rne  like  "  Blaze  in  the  frets."  This  petition  was 
urged  with  such  a  melting  sweetness  of  voice,  such  a 
bewitching  leer  at  the  gentlemen,  and  such  a  theatric 
heave  of  the  bosom,  that  it  threw  the  young  gentlemen 
into  transports.  Hall  was  rude  enough  to  whisper  in 
mine  ear,  "  that  he  thought  it  indelicate  to  expose  an 
unmantled  bosom  to  a  perpendicular  view  of  a  large 
company  ;"  and  he  muttered  something  about  "  repub 
lican  simplicity,"  I  knew  not  exactly  what.  But  I  as 
sured  him  the  fair  petitioner  was  so  overcome  by  her 
solicitude  for  the  overture,  that  she  thought  of  nothing 
else,  and  was  wholly  unconscious  that  there  was  a  gen 
tleman  in  the  room.  As  to  his  insinuation  about 
"  points  of  view,'.'  I  convinced  him  by  an  easy  argu 
ment  that  it  was  wholly  unfounded ;  for  that  this  was 
the  very  point  of  view  in  which  an  exposed  neck  must 
always  be  seen,  while  men  continue  taller  than  women  ; 
and  that,  as  the  young  lady  must  havp  been  App^zed 
of  this,  she  would  hardly  take  so  much  trouble  &r  no 
thing.  But  to  return. 


THE    SONG.  C8 

Miss  Ciunip  was  inexorable.  She  declared  that  she 
was  entirely  out  of  practice.  "  She  scarcely  ever 
touched  the  piano ;"  "  Mamma  was  always  scolding 
her  for  giving  so  much  of  her  time  tc  French  and  Ital 
tan,  and  neglecting  her  music  and  painting  ;  but  she 
told  mamma  the  other  day,  that  it  really  was  so  irk 
some  to  her  to  quit  Racine  and  Dante,  and  go  to  thrum 
ming  upon  the  piano,  that,  but  for  the  obligations  of 
filial  obedience,  she  did  not  think  she  should  ever  touch 
it  again." 

Here  Mrs.  Crump  was  kind  enough,  by  the  merest 
accident  in  the  world,  to  interpose,  and  to  relieve  the 
company  from  farther  anxiety. 

"  Augusta,  my  dear,"  said  she.  "  go  and  play  a  tune 
or  two  ;  the  company  will  excuse  your  hoarseness." 

Miss  Crump  rose  immediately  at  her  mother's  bid 
ding,  and  moved  to  the  piano,  accompanied  by  a  large 
group  of  smiling  faces. 

"  Poor  child,"  said  Mrs.  Crump  as  she  went  forward, 
"  she  is  frightened  to  death.  I  wish  Augusta  could 
overcome  her  diffidence." 

Miss  Crump  was  educated  at  Philadelphia  ;  she  had 
been  taught  to  sing  by  Madam  Piggis.queaki,  who  was 
a  pupil  of  Ma'm'selle  Crokifroggietta,  who  had  sung 
with  Madam  Catalani ;  and  she  had  taken  lessons  on 
the  piano  from  Seignor  Buzzifussi,  who  had  played  with 
Paganini. 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  rocked  to  the  right, 
then  to  the  left,  leaned  forward,  then  backward,  and 
began.  She  placed  her  right  hand  about  midway  the 
keys,  and  her  left  about  two  octaves  below  it.  Shs 
now  put  off  to  the  right  in  a  brisk  canter  up  the  treble 
notes,  and  the  left  after  it.  The  left  then  led  the  way 
back,  and  the  right  pursued  it  in  like  manner.  The 
right  turned,  and  repeated  its  first  movement ;  but  the 
(eft  outran  it  this  time,  hopped  over  it,  and  flung  it  en 
tirely  off  the  track.  It  came  in  again,  however,  behind 
t.he  left  on  its  return,  and  passed  it  in  the  same  style. 
They  now  became  highly  incensed  at  each  other,  and 
met  furiously  on  the  middle  ground.  Here  a  most 


70  THE    S3NG. 

awful  conflict  ensued  for  about  the  spice  of  ten  seconds, 
when  the  right  whipped  off  all  of  a  sudden,  as  I  thought, 
fairly  vanquished.  But  I  was  in  the  error  against 
which  Jack  Randolph  cautions  us  :  "  It  had  only  fallen 
back  to  a  stronger  position."  It  mounted  upon  two 
black  keys,  and  commenced  the  note  of  a  rattlesnake. 
This  had  a  wonderful  effect  upon  the  left,  and  placed 
the  doctrine  of  "snake  charming"  beyond  dispute. 
The  left  rushed  furiously  towards  it  repeatedly,  but 
seemed  invariably  panic-struck  when  it  came  within  six 
keys  of  it,  and  as  invariably  retired  with  a  tremendous 
roaring  down  the  bass  keys.  It  continued  its  assaults, 
sometimes  by  the  way  of  the  naturals,  sometimes  by 
the  way  of  the  sharps,  and  sometimes  by  a  zigzag 
through  both  ;  but  all  its  attempts  to  dislodge  the  right 
from  its  stronghold  proving  ineffectual,  it  came  close 
up  to  its  adversary  and  expired. 

Any  one,  or  rather  no  one,  can  imagine  what  kind 
of  noises  the  piano  gave  forth  during  the  conflict. 
Certain  it  is,  no  one  can  describe  them,  and,  therefore, 
I  shall  not  attempt  it. 

The  battle  ended,  Miss  Augusta  moved  as  though 
she  would  have  arisen,  but  this  was  protested  against 
by  a  number  of  voices  at  once :  "  One  song,  my  dear 
Aurelia,"  said  Miss  Small ;  "  you  must  sing  that  sweet 
little  French  air  you  used  to  sing  in  Philadelphia,  and 
which  Madame  Piggisqueaki  was  so  fond  of." 

Miss  Augusta  looked  pitifully  at  her  mamma,  and  her 
mamma  looked  "  sing"  at  Miss  Augusta  :  accordingly, 
she  squared  herself  for  a  song. 

She  brought  her  hands  to  the  campus  this  time  in 
fine  style,  and  they  seemed  now  to  be  perfectly  recon. 
cilod  to  each  other.  They  commenced  a  kind  of  col 
loquy  ;  the  right  whispering  treble  very  softly,  and  the 
left  responding  bass  very  loudly.  The  conference  had 
been  kept  up  until  I  began  to  desire  a  change  of  the  sub 
•ect,  when  my  ear  caught,  indistinctly,  some  very  cu 
rious  sounds,  which  appeared  to  proceed  from  the  lips 
of  Miss  Augusta  :  they  seemed  to  be  compounded  of  a 
dry  cough,  a  grunt,  a  1  iccough,  and  a  whisper;  and 


THE    SONG  7J 

they  were  introduced,  it  appeared  to  me,  as  inteifxcl. 
ers  between  the  right  and  left.  Things  progressed  in 
this  way  for  about  the  space  of  fifteen  seconds,  when  I 
happened  to  direct  my  attention  to  Mr.  Jenkins,  from 
Philadelphia.  His  eyes  were  closed,  his  head  rolled 
gracefully  from  side  to  side  ;  a  beam  of  heavenly  com . 
placency  rested  upon  his  countenance  ;  and  his  whole 
man  gave  irresistible  demonstration  that  Miss  Crump's 
music  made  him  feel  good  all  over.  I  had  just  turned 
from  the  contemplation  of  Mr.  Jenkins's  transports,  to 
see  whether  I  could  extract  from  the  performance  any. 
thing  intelligible,  when  Miss  Crump  made  a  fly-catch 
ing  grab  at  half  a  dozen  keys  in  a  row,  and  at  the  same 
instant  she  fetched  a  long,  dunghill-cock  crow,  at  the 
conclusion  of  which  she  grabbed  as  many  keys  with 
the  left.  This  came  over  Jenkins  like  a  warm  bath, 
and  over  me  like  a  rake  of  bamboo  briers. 

My  nerves  had  not  recovered  from  this  shock  before 
Miss  Augusta  repeated  the  movement,  and  accompa 
nied  it  with  a  squall  of  a  pinched  cat.  This  threw  me 
into  an  ague  fit ;  but,  from  respect  to  the  performer,  I 
maintained  my  position.  She  now  made  a  third  grasp 
with  the  right,  boxed  the  faces  of  six  keys  in  a  row 
with  the  left,  and  at  the  same  time  raised  one  of  the 
most  unearthly  howls  that  ever  issued  from  the  throat 
of  a  human  being.  This  seemed  the  signal  for  univer 
sal  uproar  and  destruction.  She  now  threw  away  all 
reserve,  and  charged  the  piano  with  her  whole  force. 
She  boxed  it,  she  clawed  it,  she  raked  it,  she  scraped 
it.  Her  neck-vein  swelled,  her  chin  flew  up,  her  face 
flushed,  her  eye  glared,  her  bosom  heaved ;  she  scream 
ed,  she  howled,  she  yelled,  cackled,  and  was  in  the  act 
of  dwelling  upon  the  note  of  a  screech-owl,  when  I  took 
the  St.  Vitus's  dance  and  rushod  out  of  the  room. 
"  Good  Lord,"  said  a  by-stander,  "  if  this  be  her  sing 
ing,  what  must  her  crying  be!"  As  I  reached  the 
door  I  heard  a  voice  exclaim,  "  By  heavens !  she's  the 
most  enchanting  performer  I  ever  heard  in  my  life  !" 
I  turned  to  see  who  was  the  author  of  this  ill-timed 
compliment  and  who  should  it  be  but  Nick  Truck,  from 


7  a  THE    SONG. 

Lincoln,  who  seven  years  before  was  dancing  "  Pos 
sum  up  the  Gum-tree"  in  the  chimney-corner  of  his  fa- 
ther's  kitchen.  Nick  had  entered  the  counting-room 
of  a  merchant  in  Charleston  some  five  or  six  years  be 
fore  ;  had  been  sent  out  as  supercargo  of  a  vessel  to 
Bordeaux,  and,  while  the  vessel  was  delivering  one 
cargo  and  taking  in  another,  had  contracted  a  wonder, 
ful  relish  for  French  music. 

As  for  myself,  I  went  home  in  convulsions,  took  six 
ty  drops  of  laudanum,  and  fell  asleep.  I  dreamed  that 
I  was  in  a  beautiful  city,  the  streets  of  which  intersect 
ed  each  other  at  right  angles  ;  that  the  birds  of  the  air 
and  the  beasts  of  the  forest  had  gathered  there  for  bat 
tle,  the  former  led  on  by  a  Frenchman,  the  latter  by 
an  Italian  ;  that  I  was  looking  on  their  movements  to 
wards  each  other,  when  I  heard  the  cry  of  "  Hecate 
is  coming !"  I  turned  my  eye  to  the  northeast,  and 
saw  a  female  flying  through  the  air  towards  the  city, 
and  distinctly  recognised  in  her  the  features  of  Miss 
Crump.  I  took  the  alarm  and  was  making  my  escape, 
when  she  gave  command  for  the  beasts  and  birds  to  fal1 
on  me.  They  did  so,  and,  with  all  the  noises  of  the 
animal  world,  were  in  the  act  of  tearing  me  to  pieces, 
when  I  was  waked  by  the  stepping  of  Hall,  my  room 
mate,  into  bed. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  I,  "  you  have  waked 
me  from  a  horrible  dream.  What  o'clock  is  it  ?" 

"  Ten  minutes  after  twelve,"  said  he. 

"  And  where  have  you  been  to  this  late  hour '" 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  the  party." 

"  And  what  kept  you  so  late  ?" 

"  Why,  I  disliked  to  retire  while  Miss  Crump  was 
playing." 

"  In  mercy's  name  !"  said  I,  "is  she  playing  yet?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he  ;  "I  had  to  leave  her  playing  at  last." 

"  And  where  was  Jenkins  ?" 

"  He  was  there,  still  in  ecstasies,  and  urging  her  to 
play  on." 

"  And  where  was  Truck  ?" 

"  HP  was  asleep." 


THE    TURN    OUT.  '3 

*  And  what  was  she  playing  ?" 

"  An  Italian — " 

Here  I  swooned,  and  heard  no  more.    • 

BALDWIN 


THE  TURN  OUT. 

IN  the  good  old  days  of  fescues,  abisselfas,  and  an- 
persanls,*  terms  which  used  to  be  familiar  in  this  coun 
try  during  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  which  lingered 
in  some  of  our  county  schools  for  a  few  years  after 
ward,  I  visited  my  friend  Captain  Griffen,  who  resided 
about  seven  miles  to  the  eastward  of  Wrightsborough, 
then  in  Richmond,  but  now  in  Columbia  county.  I 
reached  the  captain's  hospitable  dome  on  Easter,  and 
was  received  by  him  and  his  good  lady  with  a  Georgia 
welcome  of  1790.  It  was  warm  from  the  heart,  and 
taught  me  in  a  moment  that  the  obligations  of  the 
visit' were  upon  their  side,  not  mine.  Such  receptions 
were  not  peculiar,  at  that  time,  to  the  captain  and  his 
family ;  they  were  common  throughout  the  state. 
Where  are  they  now  !  and  where  the  generous  hospi 
talities  which  invariably  followed  them  !  I  see  them 
occasionally  at  the  contented  farmer's  door  and  at  his 
festive  board,  but  when  they  shall  have  taken  leave  of 
these,  Georgia  will  know  them  no  more. 

The  day  was  consumed  in  the  interchange  of  news 

*  The  fescue  was  a  sharpened  wire  or  other  instrument  used  by 
the  preceptor  to  point  out  the  letters  to  the  children. 

Abissflfa  is  a  contraction  of  the  words  "a  by  itself,  a."  It  was 
usual,  when  either  of  the  vowels  constituted  a  syllable  of  a  word,  to 
pronounce  it,  and  denote  its  independent  character  by  the  words 
just  mentioned,  thus:  "a  by  itself,  a  c-o-r-n  corn,  acorn,"  "e  by  it 
self,  t  v-i-1,  evil"  &c. 

The  character  which  stands  for  the  word  "arci"  (&)  was  prooab'y 
pronounced  by  the  same  accompaniment,  but  in  terms  borrowed  fror  j 
the  Latin  language,  thus  :  "  &  per  «e"  (by  itself/  &  Hence.  "  a  i 
persant." 

Q 


74  THE    TURN    OUT. 

between  the  captain  and  myself  (though,  I  confess,  il 
might  have  been  better  employed),  and  the  night  found 
us  seated  round  a  temporary  fire,  which  the  captain's 
sons  had  kindled  up  for  the  purpose  of  dying  eggs.  It 
was  a  common  custom  of  those  days  with  boys  to  dye 
and  peck  eggs  on  Easter  Sunday  and  for  a  few  days 
afterward.  They  were  coloured  according  to  the  fancy 
of  the  dyer ;  some  yellow,  some  green,  some  purple, 
and  some  with  a  variety  of  colours,  borrowed  from  a 
piece  of  calico.  They  were  riot  unfrequently  beautified 
with  a  taste  and  skill  which  would  have  extorted  a 
compliment  from  Hezekiah  Niles,  if  he  had  seen  theft 
a  year  ago,  in  the  hands  of  the  "young  operatives"  in 
some  of  the  northern  manufactories.  No  sooner  was 
the  work  of  dying  finished,  than  our  "young  opera 
tives"  sallied  forth  to  stake  the  whole  proceeds  of  their 
"  domestic  industry"  upon  a  peck.  Egg  was  struck 
against  egg,  point  to  point,  and  the  egg  that  was  broken 
was  given  up  as  lost  to  the  owner  of  the  one  which 
came  whole  from  the  shock. 

While  the  boys  were  busily  employed  in  the  man 
ner  just  mentioned,  the  captain's  youngest  son,  George, 
gave  us  an  anecdote  highly  descriptive  of  the  Yankee 
and  Georgia  character,  even  in  their  buddings,  and  at 
this  early  date.  "  What  you  think,  pa,"  said  he,  "  Zeph 
Pettibone  went  and  got  his  Uncle  Zach  to  turn  him  a 
wooden  egg  ;  and  he  won  a  whole  hatful  o'  eggs  from 
all  us  boys  'fore  we  found  it  out ;  but,  when  we  found 
it  out,  maybe  John  Brown  didn't  smoke  him  for  it,  and 
took  away  all  his  eggs,  and  give  'em  back  to  us  boys ; 
and  you  think  he  didn't  go  then  and  git  a  guinea-egg, 
and  win  most  as  many  more,  and  John  Brown  would 
o'  give  it  to  him  agin  if  all  we  boys  hadn't  said  we 
thought  it  was  fair.  I  never  see  such  a  boy  as  that 
Zeph  Pettibone  in  all  my  life.  He  don't  mind  whip 
ping  no  more  'an  nothing  at  all,  if  he  can  win  eggs." 

This  anecdote,  however,  only  fell  in  by  accident,  for 
there  was  an  all-absorbing  subject  which  occupied  the 
minds  of  the  boys  during  the  whole  evening,  of  which 
I  could  occasionally  catch  distant  hints,  in  under  tones 


THK    TURN    OUT.  75 

and  whispers,  but  of  which  I  could  make  nothing,  until 
they  were  afterward  explained  by  the  captain  himself. 
Such  as  "  I'll  be  bound  Pete  Jones  and  Bill  Smith 
stretches  him."  "  By  Jockey,  soon  as  they  seize  him. 
you'll  see  me  down  upon  him  .ike  a  duck  upon  a  June- 
bug."  "  By  the  time  he  touches  the  ground,  he'll  think 
he's  got  into  a  hornet's  nest,"  &c. 

"The  boys,"  said  the  captain,  as  they  retired,  "are 
going  to  turn  out  the  schoolmaster  to-morrow,  and  you 
can  perceive  they  think  of  nothing  else.  We  must  go 
over  to  the  schoolhouse  and  witness  the  contest,  in  or 
der  to  prevent  injury  to  preceptor  or  pupils ;  for,  though 
the  master  is  always,  upon  such  occasions,  glad  to  be 
turned  out,  and  only  struggles  long  enough  to  present 
his  patrons  a  fair  apology  for  giving  the  children  a 
holyday,  which  he  desires  as  much  as  they  do,  the  boys 
always  conceive  a  holyday  gained  by  a  "  turn  out"  as 
the  sole  achievement  of  their  valour ;  and,  in  theii 
zeal  to  distinguish  themselves  upon  such  memorable 
occasions,  they  sometimes  bacome  too  rough,  provoke 
the  master  to  wrath,  and  a  very  serious  conflict  ensues. 
To  prevent  these  consequences,  to  bear  witness  that 
the  master  was  forced  to  yield  before  he  would  with 
hold  a  day  of  his  promised  labour  from  his  employers, 
and  to  act  as  a  mediator  between  him  and  the  boys  in 
settling  the  articles  of  peace,  I  always  attend  ;  and  you 
must  accompany  me  to-morrow."  I  cheerfully  prom, 
ised  to  do  so. 

The  captain  and  I  rose  before  the  sun,  but  the  boys 
had  risen  and  were  off  to  the  schoolhouse  before  the 
dawn.  After  an  early  breakfast,  hurried  by  Mrs.  G. 
for  our  accommodation,  my  host  and  myself  took  up 
our  line  of  march  towards  the  schoolhouse.  We  reach 
ed  it  about  half  an  hour  before  the  master  arrived,  bu 
not  before  the  boys  had  completed  its  fortifications.  K 
jvas  a  simple  log-pen,  about  twenty  feet  square,  with  a 
doorway  cut  out  of  the  logs,  to  which  was  fitted  a  rude 
door,  made  of  clapbords,  and  swung  on  wooden  hinges. 
The  roof  was  covered  with  clapboards  also,  and  retained 
in  their  places  by  heavy  logs  placed  on  them.  The 


76  THE    TU11N    OUT. 

chimney  was  built  of  10^  diminishing  in  size  from  the 
ground  to  the  top,  and  overspread  ipside  and  out  with 
red  clay  mortar.  The  classic  hut  occupied  ^  lovely 
spot,  overshadowed  by  majestic  hickorys,  towering  pop- 
ars,  and  strong-armed  oaks.  The  little  plain  on  which 
!t  stood  was  terminated,  at  the  distance  of  about  fifty 
gaces  from  its  door,  by  the  brow  of  a  hill,  which  de 
scended  rather  abruptly  to  a  noble  spring,  that  gushed 
oyously  forth  from  among  the  roots  of  a  stately  beech 
at  its  foot.  The  stream  from  this  fountain  scarcely 
burst  into  view,  before  it  hid  itself  beneath  the  dark 
shade  of  a  field  of  cane,  which  overspread  the  dale 
through  which  it  flowed,  and  marked  its  windings,  until 
it  turned  from  the  sight  among  vine-covered  hills,  at  a 
distance  far  beyond  that  to  which  the  eye  could  have 
traced  it  without  the  help  of  its  evergreeen  belt.  A  re 
mark  of  the  captain's,  as  we  viewed  the  lovely  country 
around  us,  will  give  the  reader  my  apology  for  the  mi 
nuteness  of  the  foregoing  description.  "  These  lands," 
said  he,  "  will  never  wear  out.  Where  they  lie  level, 
they  will  be  as  good  fifty  years  hence  as  they  are  now." 
Forty-two  years  afterward  I  visited  the  spot  on  which 
he  stood  when  he  made  the  remark.  The  sun  poured 
his  whole  strength  upon  the  bald  hill  which  once  sup 
ported  the  sequestered  schoolhouse ;  many  a  deep-wash 
ed  gully  met  at  a  sickly  bog  where  gushed  the  limpid 
fountain  ;  a  dying  willow  rose  from  the  soil  which  nour 
ished  the  venerable  beech  ;  flocks  wandered  among 
the  dwarf  pines,  and  cropped  a  scanty  meal  from  the 
vale  where  the  rich  cane  bowed  and  rustled  to  every 
breeze,  and  all  around  was  barren,  dreary,  and  cheer. 
/ess.  But  to  return. 

As  I  before  remarked,  the  boys  had  strongly  fortified 
the  schoolhouse,  of  which  they  had  taken  possession 
The  door  was  barricaded  with  logs,  which  I  should  have 
supposed  would  have  defied  the  combined  powers  of  the 
whole  school.  The  chimney,  too,  was  nearly  filled 
with  logs  of  goodly  size  ;  and  these  were  the  only 
passways  to  the  interior.  I  concluded,  if  a  turn  out 
was  all  that  was  nece=?sarv  to  decide  the  contest  in  fa- 


THE    TURN  OUT.  77 

vour  of  the  boys,  they  had  already  gained  tht  victory. 
They  had,  however,  not  as  much  confidence  in  then 
outworks  as  I  had,  and,  therefore,  had  armed  themselves 
with  long  sticks  ;  not  for  the  purpose  of  using  them 
upon  the  master  if  the  battle  should  come  to  close  quar 
ters,  for  this  was  considered  unlawful  warfare  ;  but  for 
the  purpose  of  guarding  their  works  from  his  approaches, 
which  it  was  considered  perfectly  lawful  to  protect  by 
all  manner  of  jobs  and  punches  through  the  cracks. 
From  the  early  assembling  of  the  girls,  it  was  very  ob 
vious  that  they  had  been  let  into  the  conspiracy,  though 
ihey  took  no  part  in  the  active  operations.  They  would, 
however,  occasionally  drop  a  word  of  encouragement 
to  the  boys,  such  as  "  I  wouldn't  turn  out  the  master 
but  if  I  did  turn  him  out,  I'd  die  before  I'd  give  up." 
These  remarks  doubtless  had  an  imboldening  effect 
upon  "  the  young  freeborns,"  as  Mrs.  Trollope  would 
call  them  ;  for  I  never  knew  the  Georgian  of  any  age 
who  was  indifferent  to  the  smiles  and  praises  of  the 
ladies — before  his  marriage. 

At  length  Mr.  Michael  St.  Jolm,  the  schoolmaster, 
made  his  appearance.  Though  some  of  the  girls  had 
met  him  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  sr  hoolhouse,  and 
told  him  all  that  had  happened,  he  gave  signs  of  sudden 
astonishment  and  indignation  when  he  advanced  to  the 
door,  and  was  assailed  by  a  whole  platoon  of  sticks  from 
the  cracks  :  "  Why,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?"  said 
he,  as  he  approached  the  captain  and  myself,  with  a 
countenance  of  two  or  three  varying  expressions. 

"  Why,"  said  the  captain, "  the  boys  have  turned  you 
out,  because  you  have  refused  to  give  them  an  Easter 
holyday." 

"  Oh,"  returned  Michael,  "  that's  it,  is  it  ?    Well,  I'll 
see  whether  their  parents  are  to  pay  me  for  letting  their 
children  play  when  they  please."     So  saying,  he  ad 
vanced  to  the  schoolhouse,  and  demanded,  in  a  lofb 
tone,  of  its  inmates,  an  unconditional  surrender. 

"  Well,  give  us  holyday  then,"  said  twenty  little  ur- 
chins  within,  "  and  we'll  let  you  in." 

"  Open  the  door  of  the  Academy" — (Michael  would 
G  2 


78  THE    TURN    OUT. 

allow  nobody  to  call  it  a  schoolhouse) — "  Open  the  doof 
of  the  academy  this  instant,"  said  Michael,  "  or  I'll 
break  it  down." 

"  Break  it  down,"  said  Pete  Jones  and  Bill  Smith, 
"and  we'll  break  you  down." 

During  this  colloquy  I  took  a  peep  into  the  fortress, 
to  see  how  the  garrison  were  affected  by  the  parley. 
The  little  ones  were  obviously  panic-struck  at  the  first 
words  of  command  ;  but  their  fears  were  all  chased 
away  by  the  bold,  determined  reply  of  Pete  Jones  and 
Bill  Smith,  and  they  raised  a  whoop  of  defiance. 

Michael  now  walked  round  the  academy  three  times, 
examining  all  its  weak  points  with  great  care.  He 
then  paused,  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  wheeled  off 
suddenly  towards  the  woods,  as  though  a  bright  thought 
had  just  struck  him.  He  passed  twenty  things  which 
I  supposed  he  might  be  in  quest  of,  such  as  huge  stones, 
fence-rails,  portable  logs,  and  the  like,  without  bestow, 
ing  the  least  attention  upon  them.  He  went  to  one 
old  log,  searched  it  thoroughly,  then  to  another,  then 
to  a  hollow  stump,  peeped  into  it  with  great  care,  then 
to  a  hollow  IOST,  into  which  he  looked  with  equal  cau 
tion,  and  so  on 

"  What  is  he  after  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  the  captain,  "  but  the 
boys  do.  Don't  you  notice  the  breathless  silence  which 
prevails  in  the  schoolhouse,  and  the  intense  anxiety  with 
which  they  are  eying  him  through  the  cracks  ?" 

At  this  moment  Michael  had  reached  a  little  exca 
vation  at  the  root  of  a  dogwood,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
putting  his  hand  into  it,  when  a  voice  from  the  garri 
son  exclaimed,  with  most  touching  pathos,  "  Lo'd  o' 
messy,  he's  found  my  eggs  !  boys,  let's  give  up." 

"  I  won't  give  up,"  was  the  reply  from  many  voices 
at  once. 

"  Rot  your  cowardly  skin,  Zeph  Pettibone,  you 
wouldn't  give  a  wooden  egg  for  all  the  holydays  in  the 
world." 

If  these  replies  did  not  reconcile  Zephaniah  to  his  ap 
prehended  loss,  it  at  V^ast  silenced  his  complaints.  In 


THE    TURN    OUT.  79 

the  mean  time  Michael  was  employed  in  relieving 
Zeph's  storehouse  of  its  provisions  ;  and,  truly,  its  con 
tents  told  well  for  Zeph's  skill  in  egg-pecking.  How. 
ever,  Michael  took  out  the  eggs  with  great  care,  and 
brought  them  within  a  few  paces  of  the  schoolhouse, 
and  laid  them  down  with  equal  care  in  full  view  of  the 
besieged.  He  revisited  the  places  which  he  had  search 
ed,  and  to  which  he  seemed  to  have  been  led  by  intui 
tion  ;  for  from  nearly  all  of  them  did  he  draw  eggs,  in 
greater  or  less  numbers.  These  he  treated  as  he  had 
done  Zeph's,  keeping  each  pile  separate.  Having  ar 
ranged  the  eggs  in  double  files  before  the  door,  he 
marched  between  them  with  an  air  of  triumph,  and 
once  more  demanded  a  surrender,  under  pain  of  an  en 
tire  destruction  of  the  garrison's  provisions. 

"  Break  'em  just  as  quick  as  you  please,"  said  Georgo 
Griffin  ;  "  our  mothers  '11  give  us  a  plenty  more,  won't 
they,  pa  ?" 

"  I  can  answer  for  yours,  my  son,"  said  the  captain  , 
"  she  would  rather  give  up  every  egg  upon  the  farm, 
than  see  you  play  the  coward  or  traitor  to  save  your 
property." 

Michael,  finding  that  he  could  make  no  impression 
upon  the  fears  or  the  avarice  of  the  boys,  determined 
to  carry  their  fortifications  by  storm.  Accordingly, 
he  procured  a  heavy  fence-rail,  and  commenced  the 
assault  upon  the  door.  It  soon  came  to  pieces,  and 
the  upper  logs  fell  out,  leaving  a  space  of  about  three 
feet  at  the  top.  Michael  boldly  entered  the  breach, 
when,  by  the  articles  of  war,  sticks  were  thrown  aside 
as  no  longer  lawful  weapons.  He  was  resolutely  met 
on  the  half-demolished  rampart  by  Peter  Jones  and 
William  Smith,  supported  by  James  Griffin.  These 
were  the  three  largest  boys  in  the  school ;  the  first 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,  the  second  about  fifteen, 
and  the  third  just  eleven.  Twice  was  Michael  repulsed 
by  these  young  champions  ;  but  the  third  effort  carried 
him  fairly  into  the  fortress.  Hostilities  now  ceased 
for  a  while,  and  the  captain  and  I,  having  levelled  the 
remaining  logs  at  the  door,  followed  Michael  into  the 


t*0  THE    TURN    OUT. 

house.  A  large  three  inch  plank  (if  it  deserve  that 
name,  for  it  was  wrought  from  the  half  of  a  tree's  trunk 
entirely  with  the  axe),  attached  to  the  logs  by  means 
of  wooden  pins,  served  the  whole  school  for  a  writing 
desk.  At  a  convenient  distance  below  it,  and  on  a  line 
with  it,  stretched  a  smooth  log,  resting  upon  the  logs 
of  the  house,  which  answered  for  the  writers'  seat. 
Michael  took  his  seat  upon  the  desk,  placed  his  feet 
on  the  seat,  and  was  sitting  very  composedly,  when, 
with  a  simultaneous  movement,  Pete  and  Bill  seized 
each  a  leg,  and  marched  off  with  it  in  quick  time.  The 
consequence  is  obvious  ;  Michael's  head  first  took  the 
desk,  then  the  seat,  and  finally  the  ground  (for  the  house 
was  not  floored),  with  three  sonorous  thumps  of  most 
doleful  portent.  No  sooner  did  he  touch  the  ground 
than  he  was  completely  buried  with  boys.  The  three 
elder  laid  themselves  across  his  head,  neck,  and  breast, 
the  rest  arranging  themselves  ad  libitum.  Michael's 
equanimity  was  considerably  disturbed  by  the  first 
thump,  became  restive  with  the  second,  and  took  flight 
with  the  third.  His  first  effort  was  to  disengage  his 
legs,  for  without  them  hfe  could  not  rise,  and  to  lie  in 
his  present  position  was  extremely  inconvenient  and 
undignified.  Accordingly,  he  drew  up  his  right,  and 
kicked  at  random.  This  movement  laid  out  about  six 
in  various  directions  upon  tue  floor.  Two  rose  crying  : 
"  Ding  his  old  red-headed  skin,"  said  one  of  them,  "  to 
go  and  kick  me  right  in  my  sore  belly,  where  1  fell 
down  and  raked  it,  running  after  that  fellow  that  cried 
'school-butter.'  "* 

*  I  have  never  been  able  to  satisfy  myself  clearly  as  to  the  literal 
meaning  o;  these  terms.  They  were  considered  an  unpardonable  in 
sult  to  a  country  school,  and  always  justified  an  attack  by  the  whole 
fra-ernity  upon  the  person  who  used  them  in  their  hearing.  I  have 
'•inown  the  scholars  pursue  a  traveller  two  miles  to  be  revenged  of 
he  insult.  Probably  they  are  a  corruption  of ;i  The  school's  better." 
;  Belter"  was  the  term  commonly  used  of  old  to  denote  a  superior, 
•ts  it  sometimes  is  in  our  day  :  "  Wait  till  your  betters  are  served," 
O"  example.  I  conjecture,  therefore,  the  expression  just  alluded  to 
vas  one  of  challenge,  contempt,  and  defiance,  by  which  the  person 
A-ho  used  it  avowed  himself  the  superior  in  all  respects  of  the  whole 
rjiiool,  fiom  the  preceptor  down.  If  anyone  can  give  a  better  QP 
count  of  it,  I  shall  be  pleised  to  receive  it 


THE   TURN    OUT.  81 

"  Drot  his  old  snaggle-tooth  picture,"  said  the  other, 
"  to  go  and  hurt  my  sore  toe,  where  I  knocked  the  nail 
off  going  to  the  spring  to  fetch  a  gourd  of  warier  for 
him,  and  not  for  myself  n'other." 

"Hut!"  said  Captain  Griffin,  "young  Washingtons 
mind  these  trifles  !  At  him  again." 

The  name  of  Washington  cured  their  wounds  and 
dried  up  their  tears  in  an  instant,  and  they  legged  hint 
de  novo.  The  left  leg  treated  six  more  as  unceremoni. 
ously  as  the  right  had  those  just  mentioned ;  but  the 
talismanic  name  had  just  fallen  upon  their  ears  before 
the  kick,  so  they  were  invulnerable.  They  therefore 
returned  to  the  attack  without  loss  of  time.  The 
struggle  seemed  to  wax  hotter  and  hotter  for  a  short 
time  after  Michael  came  to  the  ground,  and  he  threw 
the  children  about  in  all  directions  and  postures.,  giving 
some  of  them  thumps  which  would  have  placed  the 
ruffle-shirted  little  darlings  of  the  present  day  under  the 
discipline  of  paregoric  and  opodeldoc  for  a  week ;  but 
these  hardy  sons  of  the  forest  seemed  not  to  feel  them. 
As  Michael's  head  grew  easy,  his  limbs,  by  a  natural 
sympathy,  became  more  quiet,  and  he  offered  one  day's 
holyday  as  the  price.  The  boys  demanded  a  week  ; 
but  here  the  captain  interposed,  and,  after  the  commois 
but  often  unjust  custom  of  arbitrators,  split  the  differ 
ence.  In  this  instance  the  terms  were  equitable  enough, 
and  were  immediately  acceded  to  by  both  parties. 
Michael  rose  in  a  good  humour,  and  the  boys  were, 
of  course.  Loud  was  their  talking  of  their  deed;, 
of  valour  as  they  retired.  One  little  fellow  abou' 
seven  years  old,  and  about  three  feet  and  a  half  high, 
jumped  up,  cracked  his  feet  together,  and  exclaimed, 
•'  By  jingo,  Pete  Jones,  Bill  Smith,  and  me  can  hold 
any  Sinjin  that  ever  trod  Georgy  grit."  By-the-way, 
the  name  of  St.  John  was  always  pronounced  "  Sinjin" 
by  the  common  people  of  that  day ;  and  so  it  must 
have  been  by  Lord  Bolingbroke  himself,  else  his  friend 
Pope  would  never  have  addressed  him  in  a  line  so  un. 
musical  as 

"  Awake,  my  St.  John,  leave  all  meaner  tl.ings." 


92  THE    '•  CHARMING    CREATURE       AS    A    WIFE. 

Nor  would  Swift,  the  friend  and  companion  of  both, 
have  written 

"  What  St.  John's  skill  in  state  affairs, 
What  Ormond's  valour,  Oxford's  cares." 

***** 

"  Where  folly,  pride,  and  faction  sway, 
Remote  from  St.  John,  Pope,  and  Gray." 

HALL, 


THE  "CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WIFE. 

MY  nephew,  George  Baldwin,  was  but  ten  years 
younger  than  myself.  He  was  the  son  of  a  plain,  prac 
tical,  sensible  farmer,  who,  without  the  advantages  of  a 
liberal  education,  had  enriched  his  mind,  by  study  and 
observation,  with  a  fund  of  useful  knowledge  rarely 
possessed  by  those  who  move  in  his  sphere  of  life 
His  wife  was  one  of  the  most  lovely  of  women.  She 
was  pious,  but  not  austere ;  cheerful,  but  not  light , 
generous,  but  not  prodigal ;  economical,  but  not  close  , 
hospitable,  but  not  extravagant.  In  native  powers  of 
mind  she  was  every  way  my  brother's  equal ;  in  ac 
quirements  she  was  decidedly  his  superior.  To  this  1 
have  his  testimony  as  well  as  my  own  ;  but  it  was  im 
possible  to  discover  in  her  conduct  anything  going  to 
show  that  she  coincided  with  us  in  opinion.  To  have 
heard  her  converse,  you  would  have  supposed  she  did 
nothing  but  read ;  to  have  looked  through  the  depart 
ments  of  her  household,  you  would  have  supposed  she 
never  read.  Everything  which  lay  within  her  little 
province  bore  the  impress  of  her  hand  or  acknowledg 
ed  her  supervision.  Order,  neatness,  and  cleanliness 
prevailed  everywhere.  All  provisions  were  given  out 
with  her  own  hands,  and  she  could  tell  precisely  the 
quantity  of  each  article  that  it  would  require  to  serve 
a  given  number  of  persons,  without  stint  or  wasteful 
profusion.  In  the  statistics  of  domestic  economy  sha 
was  perfectly  versed.  She  would  tell  you<  with  aston 


THE   "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS    A    WIFE.  83 

ishing  accuracy,  how  many  pounds  of  cured  bacon  you 
might  expect  from  a  given  weight  of  fresh  pork  ;  how 
many  quarts  of  cream  a  given  quantity  of  milk  would 
yield ;  how  much  butter  so  much  cream ;  how  much 
or  each  article  it  would  take  to  serve  so  many  persons 
a  month  or  a  year.  Supposing  no  change  in  the  fam 
ily,  and  she  would  tell  to  a  day  when  a  given  quantity 
of  provisions  of  any  kind  would  be  exhausted.  She 
reduced  to  certain  knowledge  everything  that  could 
be ;  and  she  approximated  to  it  as  nearly  as  possible 
with  those  matters  that  could  not  be.  And  yet  she 
scolded  less  and  whipped  less  than  any  mistress  of  a 
family  I  ever  saw.  The  reason  is  obvious.  Every 
thing  under  her  care  went  on  with  perfect  system.  To 
each  servant  was  allotted  his  or  her  respective  duties, 
and  to  each  was  assigned  the  time  in  which  those  du 
ties  were  to  be  performed.  During  this  time  she  suf 
fered  them  not  to  be  interrupted,  if  it  was  possible  to 
protect  them  from  interruption.  Her  children  were 
permitted  to  give  no  orders  to  servants  but  through 
her,  until  they  reached  the  age  at  which  they  were  ca 
pable  of  regulating  their  orders  by  her  rules.  She 
Lid  no  plans  to  detect  her  servants  in  theft,  but  she 
took  great  pains  to  convince  them  that  they  could  not 
pilfer  without  detection ;  and  this  did  she  without  be 
traying  any  suspicions  of  their  integrity.  Thus  she 
would  have  her  biscuits  uniformly  of  a  size,  and,  under 
the  form  of  instructions  to  her  cook,  she  would  show 
her  precisely  the  quantity  of  flour  which  it  took  to 
make  so  many  biscuits.  After  all  this,  she  exposed 
her  servants  to  as  few  temptations  as  possible.  She 
never  sent  them  to  the  larder  unattended  if  she  could 
avoid  it ;  and  never  placed  them  under  the  watch  of 
children.  She  saw  that  they  were  well  provided  with 
everything  they  needed,  and  she  indulged  them  in  rec 
reations  when  she  could.  No  service  was  required 
of  them  on  the  Sabbath  farther  than  to  spread  the  table 
and  to  attend  it ;  a  service  which  was  lightened  as 
ir,uch  as  possible  by  having  the  provisions  of  that  day 
v-'  ry  simple,  and  prepared  the  day  before 


84  THE    "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    jiS    A    WIFE. 

Such,  but  half  described,  were  the  father  and  mothi 
of  George  Baldwin.  He  was  their  only  son  and  eldem 
child  ;  but  he  had  two  sisters,  Mary  and  Martha  ;  the 
first  four,  and  the  second  six  years  younger  than  him. 
self — a  son  next  to  George  having  died  in  infancy. 
The  two  eldest  children  inherited  their  names  from 
their  parents,  and  all  of  them  grew  up  worthy  of  tho 
fcvock  from  which  they  sprang. 

George,  having  completed  his  education  at  Prince 
ton,  where  he  was  graduated  with  great  honour  to  him 
self,  returned  to  Georgia  and  commenced  the  study  ol 
the  law.     After  studying  a  year  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar,  just  after  he  had  completed  his  one-and-twen 
tieth  year.     I  have  been  told  by  gentlemen  who  belong 
to  this  profession,  that  one  year  is  too  short  a  time  for 
preparation  for  the  intricacies  of  legal  lore  ;  and  it  may 
be  so,  but  I  never  knew  a  young  man  acquit  himself 
more  creditably  than  George  did  in  his  maiden  speech. 

He  located  himself  in  the  city  of ,  seventy  miles 

from  his  father's  residence  ;  and,  after  the  lapse  of  three 
years,  he  counted  up  eight  hundred  dollars  as  the  nett 
profits  of  his  last  year's  practice.  Reasonably  calcu 
lating  that  his  receipts  would  annually  increase  for  sev 
eral  years  to  come,  having  no  expenses  to  encounter 
except  for  his  board  and  clothing  (for  his  father  had 
furnished  him  with  a  complete  library),  he  now  thought 
of  taking  to  himself  a  helpmate.  Hitherto  he  had  led 
a  very  retired,  studious  life  ;  but  now  he  began  to  court 
the  society  of  ladies. 

About  this  time  Miss  Evelina  Caroline  Smith  returned 
to  the  city  from  Philadelphia,  where,  after  an  absence 
of  three  years,  she  had  completed  her  education.  She 
was  the  only  child  of  a  wealthy,  unlettered  merchant, 
who,  rather  by  good  luck  than  good  management,  had 
amassed  a  fortune  of  about  fifty  thousand  dollars.  Mr. 
Smith  was  one  of  those  men  who  conceived  that  all 
earthly  greatness,  and,  consequently,  all  earthly  bliss 
concentred  in  wealth.  The  consequence  was  inevita 
ole.  To  the  poor  he  was  haughty,  supercilious,  and  ar. 
»ocrant,  and,  not  unfrequently,  vantonlv  insolent ;  to  the 


THE    "  CHARMING   CREATURE"    AS   A   WIFE.  80 

rich  he  was  friendly,  kind,  or  obsequious,  as  their  purses 
equalled  or  overmeasured  his  own.  His  wife  was  even 
below  himself  in  moral  stature  ;  proud,  loquacious,  sil 
ly.  Evelina  was  endowed  by  nature  with  a  good  mind 
and,  what  her  parents  esteemed  of  infinitely  more  value 
she  was  beautiful  from  her  infancy  to  the  time  when  1 
introduced  her  to  the  reader,  which  was  just  after  she 
had  completed  her  seventeenth  year.  Evelina's  time, 
between  her  sixth  and  fourteenth  year,  had  been  chiefly 
employed  in  learning  from  her  father  and  mother  what 
a  perfect  beauty  she  was,  and  what  kind  of  gewgaws 
exhibited  her  beauty  to  the  greatest  advantage  ;  how 
rich  she  would  be ;  and  "  what  havoc  she  would  make 
of  young  men's  hearts  by-and-by."  In  these  instruct 
ive  lectures  her  parents  sometimes  found  gratuitous  help 
from  silly  male  and  female  visiters,  who,  purely  to  win 
favour  from  the  parents,  would  expatiate  on  the  perfec 
tions  of"  the  lovely,"  "charming,"  "  beautiful  little  crea 
ture"  in  her  presence.  The  consequence  was,  that 
pride  and  vanity  became,  at  an  early  age,  the  leading 
traits  of  the  child's  character,  and  admiration  and  flat 
tery  the  only  food  which  she  could  relish.  Her  parents 
subjected  themselves  to  the  loss  of  her  society  for  three 
years,  while  she  was  at  school  in  Philadelphia,  from  no 
better  motive  than  to  put  her  on  an  equality  with  Mr. 
B.'s  and  Mr.  C.'s  daughters  ;  or,  rather,  to  imitate  the 
examples  of  Messrs.  B.  &  C.,  merchants  of  the  same 
city,  who  were  very  rich. 

While  she  was  in  Philadelphia  Evelina  was  well  in 
structed.  She  was  taught  in  what  female  loveliness 
truly  consists  ;  the  qualities  which  deservedly  command 
the  respect  of  the  wise  and  good ;  and  the  deportmen. 
which  ensures  to  a  female  the  admiration  of  ail.  Bu. 
Evelina's  mind  had  received  a  bias  from  which  these 
lessons  could  not  relieve  it ;  and  the  only  effect  of  them 
upon  her  was  to  make  her  an  accomplished  hypocrite, 
with  all  her  other  foibles.  She  improved  her  instruc 
tions  only  to  the  gratification  of  her  ruling  passion.  la 
music  she  made  some  proficiency,  because  she  saw  in  i! 
a  readv  means  of  gaining  admiration. 
H 


86          THE    "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS    A    WIFE. 

George  Baldwin  had  formed  a  partial  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Smith  before  the  return  of  his  daughter  ;  bitf 
he  rather  shunned  than  courted  a  closer  intimacy 
Smith,  however,  had  intrusted  George  with  seme  pro- 
fessional  business,  found  him  trustworthy,  and  thought 
be  saw  in  him  a  man  who,  at  no  very  distant  day,  was 

become  distinguished  for  both  wealth  and  talents ;  and. 
pon  a  very  short  acquaintance,  he  took  occasion  to  tell 
him,  "  that  whoever  married  his  daughter  should  re 
ceive  the  next  day  a  check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
That'll  do,"  continued  he,  "  to  start  upon  ;  and,  when 
[  and  the  old  woman  drop  off,  she  will  get  thirty  more." 
This  had  an  effect  upon  George  dire'ctly  opposite  to  that 
which  it  was  designed  to  have. 

Miss  Smith  had  been  at  home  about  three  weeks,  and 
the  whole  town  had  sounded  the  praises  of  her  beauty 
and  accomplishments  ;  but  George  had  not  seen  her, 
though  Mr.  Smith  had,  in  the  mean  time,  given  him 
several  notes  to  collect,  with  each  of  which  he  "  won- 
dercd  how  it  happened  that  two  so  much  alike  as  him 
self  and  George  had  never  been  more  intimate;  and 
hoped  he  would  come  over  in  a  sociable  way  and  see 
him  often."  About  this  time,  however,  George  re 
ceived  a  special  invitation  to  a  large  tea-party  from 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  which  he  could  not  with  propri 
ety  reject,  and  accordingly  he  went.  He  was  received 
at  the  door  by  Mr.  Smith,  announced  upon  entering  the 
drawing-room,  and  conducted  through  a  crowd  of  gen- 
tlemen  to  Miss  Smith,  to  whom  he  was  introduced  with 
peculiar  emphasis.  He  made  his  obeisance  and  re 
tired  ;  for  common  politeness  required  him  to  bestow 
:iis  attentions  upon  some  of  the  many  ladies  in  the 
room,  who  were  neglected  by  the  gentlemen  in  their 
rivalship  for  a  smile  or  word  from  Miss  Evelina.  She 
was  the  admiration  of  all  the  gentlemen,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  two  or  three  young  ladies,  who  "thought 
her  tco  affected,"  she  was  praised  by  all  the  ladies. 
In  short,  by  nearly  universal  testimony,  she  was  prc 
nounced  "a  charming  creature,." 


THE    "CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS   A    WIFE.  67 

An  hour  had  elapsed  before  George  found  an  oppor 
(unity  of  giving  her  those  attentions  which,  as  a  guest 
of  the  family,  courtesy  required  from  him.  The  op 
portunity  was  at  length,  however,  furnished  by  herself. 
In  circling  round  the  room  to  entertain  the  company, 
she  reached  George  just  as  the  seat  next  to  him  had 
been  vacated.  This  she  occupied,  and  a  conversa 
tion  ensued,  with  every  word  of  which  she  gained  upon 
his  respect  and  esteem.  Instead  of  finding  her  that 
gay,  volatile,  vain  creature  whom  he  expected  to  find 
in  the  rich  and  beautiful  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Smith,  he  found  her  a  modest,  sensible,  unassuming 
girl,  whose  views  upon  all  subjects  coincided  precisely 
with  his  own. 

"  She  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  her  parents,  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  in  giving  and  attending  parties  ;  but  she 
always  left  them,  under  the  conviction  that  the  time 
spent  at  them  was  worse  than  wrasted.  It  was  really 
a  luxury  to  her  to  retire  from  the  idle  chit-chat  of  them, 
and  to  spend  a  few  minutes  in  conversation  with  a  male 
or  female  friend,  who  would  consider  it  no  disrespect 
to  the  company  to  talk  rationally  upon  such  occasions. 
And  yet,  in  conducting  such  conversaitons  at  such 
times,  it  was  so  difficult  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  ped 
antry,  and  to  keep  it  from  running  into  something  too 
stiff  or  too  grave  for  a  social  circle,  that  she  really  was 
afraid  to  court  them."  As  to  books,  "  she  read  but 
very  few  novels,  though  her  ignorance  of  them  often 
exposed  her  to  some  mortification ;  but  she  felt  that 
her  ignorance  here  was  a  compliment  to  her  taste  and 
delicacy,  which  made  ample  amends  for  the  mortifica 
tions  to  which  it  forced  her  occasionally  to  submit. 
With  Hannah  More,  Mrs.  Chapone,  Bennett,  and  other 
writers  of  the  same  class,  she  was  very  familiar"  (and 
she  descanted  upon  the  peculiar  merits  of  each)  ;  "  but, 
after  all,  books  were  of  small  consequence  to  a  lady, 
without  those  domestic  virtues  which  enable  her  to 
blend  superior  usefulness  with  superior  acquirements  ; 
and  if  learning  or  usefulness  must  be  forsaken,  it  had 
better  be  the  first.  Of  music  she  was  extra  vagantl> 


88          THE    "CHAHMIN3    CREATURE"    AS    A    WIFE 

fond,  and  she  presumed  she  ever  would  be  ;   but  s>ha 
confessed  she  had^no  taste  for  its  modern  refinements.' 

Thus  she  went  on  with  the  turns  of  the  conversa- 
tion,  and  as  she  caught  George's  views.  It  is  true  she 
would  occasionally  drop  a  remark  which  did  not  har. 
•nonize  exactly  with  these  dulcet  strains  ;  and,  in  hei 
rambles  over  the  world  of  science,  she  would  some 
times  seem  at  fault  where  George  thought  she  oughl 
to  have  been  perfectly  at  home  ;  but  he  found  a  thou 
sand  charitable  ways  of  accounting  for  all  this,  noJ 
one  of  which  led  to  the  idea  that  she  might  have  learn 
ed  these  diamond  sentiments  by  rote  from  the  lips  oj 
her  preceptress.  Consequently,  they  came  with  re- 
sistless  force  upon  the  citadel  of  George's  heart,  and 
in  less  than  half  an  hour  overpowered  it  completely, 

"  Truly,"  thought  George,  "  she  is  a  charming  crea 
ture  !  When  was  so  much  beauty  ever  blended  with 
such  unassuming  manners  and  such  intellectual  endow- 
ments  !  How  wonderful,  that  the  daughter  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Smith  should  possess  such  accomplishments ! 
How  dull — with  all  her  filial  affection — how  dull  must 
be  her  life  under  the  parental  roof!  Not  a  companion, 
not  a  sympathetic  feeling  there  !  How  sweet  it  would 
be  to  return  from  the  toils  of  the  courts  to  a  bosom 
friend  so  soft,  so  benevolent,  so  intelligent." 

Thus  ran  George's  thoughts  as  soon  as  Miss  Smith 
nad  left  him  to  go  in  quest  of  new  conquests.  The 
effects  of  her  short  interview  with  him  soon  became 
visible  to  every  eye.  His  conversation  lost  its  spirit , 
>vas  interrupted  by  rnoody  abstractions,  and  was  sillier 
than  it  had  ever  been.  George  had  a  fine  person,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  now  set  a  value  upon 
it.  To  exhibit  it  to  the  greatest  advantage,  he  walked 
the  room  under  various  pretences ;  and  when  in  hia 
promenades  he  caught  the  eye  of  Miss  Smith  resting 
upon  him,  he  assumed  a  more  martial  or  theatric  step, 
which  made  him  look  ridiculous  at  the  time,  and  feeS 
90  immediately  afterward.  In  his  listless  journeyings 
his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  beautiful  cottage  scene. 
at  the  foot  of  which  glittered,  in  golden  letters, 
"  Bv  RVF.UNA  CAROLINE  SMITH.  OF .  GEORGIA.' 


THE     'CHARMING    CREATURE*'    AS    A    WIFE.  8S 

This  led  him  to  another,  and  another,  from  the  same 
pencil.  Upon  these  he  was  gazing  with  a  look  and 
attitude  the  most  complimentary  to  Miss  Evelina  that 
he  could  possibly  assume,  while  the  following  remarks 
were  going  the  rounds. 

"  Do  you  notice  George  Baldwin  ?' 

"  Oh  ye?  .  he's  in  for  it ;  dead,  sir ;  good-by  to  bail 
wiits  and  sassiperaris  !  ' 

"  Oh,  she's  only  put  an  attachment  on  him." 

"  Really,  Miss  Smith,  it  was  too  bad  to  serve  George 
Baldwin  so  cruelly  !" 

"  Ah,  sir,  if  reports  are  true,  Mr.  Baldwin  is  too  fond 
of  his  books  to  think  of  any  lady,  much  less  of  one  so 
unworthy  of  his  attentions  as  I  am." 

George  heard  this  ;  nestled  a  little  ;  threw  back  his 
shoulders ;  placed  his  arms  akimbo,  and  looked  at  the 
picture  with  wonderful  independence. 

Then  Miss  Evelina  was  handed  to  the  piano,  and  to 
a  simple,  beautiful  air,  she  sang  a  well-written  song, 
the  burden  of  which  was  an  apology  for  love  at  first 
sight.  This  was  wanton  cruelty  to  an  unresisting  cap- 
tive.  To  do  her  justice,  however,  her  performance 
had  not  been  equalled  during  the  evening. 

The  company  at  length  began  to  retire  ;  and,  so  long 
as  a  number  remained  sufficient  to  give  him  an  apol 
ogy  for  staying,  George  delayed  his  departure.  The 
last  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  finally  rose,  and 
George  commenced  a  fruitless  search  for  his  hat ; 
fruitless,  because  he  looked  for  it  where  he  knew  it 
was  not  to  be  found.  But  a  servant  was  more  sue- 
cessful,  and  brought  it  to  him  just  as  he  was  giving  up 
the  search  as  hopeless,  and  commencing  a  conversa 
tion  with  Miss  Smith  for  the  night. 

"  Why,  where  did  you  find  it  ?"  said  George,  with 
seeming  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the  discovery. 

"  Out  da,  in  de  entry,  sir,  whay  all  de  gentleman  put 
da  hats." 

"  Oh,  I  ought  to  have  known  that.     GoocZ-by,  Miss 
Evelina  !"  said  George,  throwing  a  melting  eloquence 
into  the  first  word,  and  reaching  forth  his  hand. 
H2 


DO          THE    "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS    A    WIFE. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Baldwin !"  returned  she ;  " 
hopr  you  will  not  be  quite  so  great  a  stranger  here  aa 
you  have  been.  Pa  has  often  wondered  that  you  never 
visit  him."  Here  she  relinquished  his  hand  with  a 
gentle  but  sensible  pressure,  which  might  mean  two  or 
Uiree  things.  Whatever  was  its  meaning,  it  ran  like 
nitrous  oxide  through  every  fibre  of  George's  composi 
tion,  and  robbed  him  for  a  moment  of  his  last  ray  of 
intellect. 

"  Believe  me,  Miss  Smith,"  said  he,  as  if  he  were 
opening  a  murder  case,  "  believe  me,  there  are  fasci- 
nations  about  this  hospitable  dome,  in  the  delicate 
touches  of  the  pencil  which  adorn  it,  and  in  the  soft 
breathings  of  the  piano,  awaked  by  the  hand  which  I 
have  just  relinquished,  which  will  not  permit  me  to  de 
lay,  as  heretofore,  those  visits  which  professional  duty 
requires  me  to  make  to  your  kind  parent  (your  father) 
a  single  moment  beyond  the  time  that  his  claims  to 
my  respects  become  absolute.  Good  even-ing,  Miss 
Smith." 

"  Did  ever  mortal  of  common  sense  talk  and  act  so 
much  like  an  arrant  fool  as  I  have  this  evening  !"  said 
George,  as  the  veil  of  night  fell  upon  the  visions  which 
had  danced  before  his  eyes  for  the  four  preceding 
hours. 

Though  it  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  at  night  when 
he  reached  his  office,  he  could  not  sleep  until  he  laid  the 
adventures  of  the  evening  before  his  father  and  mother. 
The  return  mail  brought  him  a  letter  from  his  parents 
written  by  his  mother's  hand,  which  we  regret  we  can 
not  give  a  place  in  this  narrative.  Suffice  it  to  say,  it 
was  kind  and  affectionate,  but  entirely  too  cold  for  the 
temperature  of  George's  feelings.  It  admitted  the  in 
trinsic  excellence  of  Miss  Smith's  views  and  sentiments, 
out  expressed  serious  apprehensions  that  her  habits  ol 
life  would  prove  an  insuperable  barrier  to  her  ever  put. 
ting  them  in  full  practice.  "  We  all  admit,  my  dear 
George,"  said  the  amiable  writer,  "  the  value  of  indus 
try,  economy — in  short,  of  all  the  domestic  and  social 
virtues  :  but  how  small  the  number  who  practise  them 


THE  "  CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WJFE.     91 

Golden  sentiments  are  to  be  picked  up  anywhere.  In 
this  age  they  are  upon  the  lips  of  everybody ;  but  we 
do  not  find  that  they  exert  as  great  an  influence  upon 
the  morals  of  society  as  they  did  in  the  infancy  of  our 
Republic,  when  they  were  less  talked  of.  For  ourselves, 
we  confess  we  prize  the  gentleman  or  lady  who  habitu- 
ally  practises  one  Christian  virtue,  much  higher  than  we 
do  the  one  who  barely  lectures  eloquently  upon  them 
all.  But  we  are  not  so  weak  or  so  uncharitable  as  to 
suppose  that  none  who  discourse  fluently  upon  them 
can  possess  them." 

******** 

"  The  whole  moral  which  we  would  deduce  from  the 
foregoing  remarks,  is  one  which  your  own  observation 
must  have  taught  you  a  thousand  times ;  that  but  little 
confidence  is  to  be  reposed  in  fine  sentiments  which  do 
not  come  recommended  by  the  life  and  conduct  of  the 
person  who  retails  them.  And  yet,  familiar  as  you  are 
with  this  truth,  you  certainly  have  more  command  over 
your  judgment  than  have  most  young  men  of  your  age, 
if  you  do  not  entirely  forget  it  the  moment  you  hear  such 
sentiments  from  the  lips  of  'a  lady  possessing  strong 
"personal  attractions.'  There  is  a  charm  in  beauty 
which  even  philosophy  is  constrained  to  acknowledge, 
and  which  youth  instinctively  transfers  to  all  the  moral 

qualities  of  its  possessor." 

****** 

"  When  you  come  to  know  the  elements  of  which 
connubial  happiness  is  composed,  you  will  be  astonished 
to  find  that,  with  few  exceptions,  they  are  things  which 
you  now  consider  the  veriest  trifles  imaginable.  It  is  a 
happy  ordination  of  Providence  that  it  should  be  so  •, 
for  this  brings  matrimonial  bliss  within  the  reach  of  all 
. Masses  of  persons."  * 

"  Harmony  of  thought  and  feeling  upon 
the  little  daily  occurrences  of  life,  congeniality  of  views 
and  sentiments  between  yourselves  and  your  connexions 
on  either  side,  similarity  of  habits  and  pursuits  among 
your  immediate  relatives  and  friends,  if  not  essential  to 
ouptial  bliss,  are  certainly  its  chief  ingredients-."  * 


92          THE    "  CHARMING    CRE.4  T\  RE''     AS   J.    WIFE,. 

a  Having  pointed  y  >d 

to  the  sources  of  conjugal  felicity,  your  own  judgment 
will  spare  my  trembling  hand  the  painful  duty  of  point 
ing  you  to  those  fountains  of  bitterness  and  wo — but  1 
forget  that  I  am  representing  your  father  as  well  as 
myself." 

George  read  the  long  letter,  from  which  the  foregoing 
extracts  are  taken,  with  deep  interest  and  with  some 
alarm  ;  but  he  was  not  in  a  situation  to  profit  by  his 
parents'  counsels.  '  He  had  visited  Miss  Smith  repeat 
edly  in  the  time  he  was  waiting  to  hear  from  his  parents ; 
and  though  he  had  discovered  many  little  foibles  in  her 
character,  he  found  a  ready  apology  or  an  easy  remedy 
for  them  all. 

The  lapse  of  a  few  months  found  them  engaged,  and 
George  the  happiest  mortal  upon  earth. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Evelina,"  said  he,  as  soon  as 
they  had  interchanged  their  vows,  "  I  go  to  render  my 
self  worthy  of  the  honour  you  have  conferred  upon  me. 
My  studies,  which  love,  doubt,  and  anxiety  have  too  long 
interrupted,  shall  now  be  renewed  with  redoubled  inten 
sity.  My  Evelina's  interest,  being  associated  with  all 
my  labours,  will  turn  them  to  pleasures ;  my  honour 
being  hers,  I  shall  court  it  with  untiring  zeal.  She 
will  therefore  excuse  me  if  my  visits  are  not  repeated 
in  future  quite  as  often  as  they  have  been  heretofore." 

"  What,  a'ready,  Mr.  Baldwin !"  exclaimed  she, 
weeping  most  beautifully. 

"  Why  no,  not  for  the  world,  if  my  dear  Evelina 
says  not !  But  I  thought  that  - 1  flattered  myself — I 
hoped — my  Evelina  would  find  a  sufficient  apology  in 
the  motive." 

The  little  mistake  was  rectified  in  the  course  of  an 
.lour,  and  they  parted  more  in  raptures  with  each  other 
than  they  had  ever  been. 

George  continued  his  visits  as  before,  and,  in  the 
mean  time,  his  business  began  to  suffer  from  neglect, 
of  which  his  clients  occasionally  reminded  him,  with  all 
the  frankness  which  one  exhibits  at  seeing  a  love  affair 
carried  on  with  too  much  zeal  and  at  his  expense,  In 


THE   "CHARMING   CREATURE"    /,S   A    WIFE.  93 

ir  Jtli,  George's  heart  had  more  fJian  once  entertained 
a  wish  (for  his  lips  dare  not  utter  it)  that  his  charming 
Evelina's  affection  could  come  down  to  a  hundred  of 
Wedgewood  when  the  circuit  commenced,  and  give 
him  a  temporary  respite. 

The  evening  before  he  set  out  he  spent  with  his 
"charming  Evelina,1'  of  course,  and  the  interview  closed 
with  a  most  melting  scene ;  but  I  may  not  stop  to  de> 
scribe  it.  Candour  constrains  meto  say,  however,  that 
George  got  over  it  before  he  reached  his  office,  which 
he  entered  actually  whistling  a  merry  tune. 

He  was  at  the  second  court  of  the  circuit,  and  had 
been  from  home  nearly  a  fortnight,  when  one  of  his 
friends  addressed  him  with,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is. 
Baldwin,  you'd  better  go  home,  or  Dr.  Bibb  will  cut  you 
out.  There  have  been  two  or  three  parties  in  town 
since  you  came  away,  at  all  of  which  Miss  Smith  and 
Bibb  were  as  thick  as  two  pickpockets.  The  whole 
town's  talking  about  them.  I  heard  a  young  lady  say 
to  her,  she'd  tell  you  how  she  was  carrying  on  with 
Bibb  ;  and  she  declared,  upon  her  word  and  honour 
{looking  killniferously  at  Bibb),  that  she  only  knew  you 
as  her  father's  collecting  attorney." 

George  reddened  deeper  and  deeper  at  every  word 
of  this,  but  passed  it  off  with  a  hearty,  hectic  laugh. 

It  was  on  Thursday  afternoon  that  he  received  this 
intelligence,  and  it  met  him  forty  miles  from  home,  and 
twenty-five  from  the  next  court  in  order.  Two  of  his 
cases  were  yet  undisposed  of.  Of  these  he  gave  hasty 
notes  to  one  of  his  brethren,  in  order  to  guide  him  if  he 
should  be  forced  to  trial,  but  instructing  him  to  continue 
them  if  he  could.  Having  made  these  arrangements, 
Friday  afternoon,  at  five  o'clock,  found  his  jaded  horse 
at  his  office  door.  George  tarried  here  no  longer  than 
was  necessary  to  change  his  apparel,  and  then  he  hast 
ened  to  the  habitation  of  his  "  charming  Evelina." 

He  was  received  at  the  door  by  a  servant,  who  es 
corted  him  to  the  drawing-room,  and  who,  to  heighten 
Evelina's  joy  by  surprise,  instructed  her  maid  to  tell  her 
that  there  was  a  gentlemar  in  the  drawing-room  who 
v.  ish"d  t,>  see  her. 


94  THE    "CHARMING    CHEATUHE"    «..>    A    WIFE, 

Minute  after  minute  rolled  away,  and  she  did  not 
make  her  appearance.  After  he  had  been  kept  in  sus 
pense  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  she  entered  the 
room,  dressed  in  bridal  richness  and  taste. 

"  Why,  is  it  you  !"  said  she,  rushing  to  him  in  trans- 
ports  :  "  I  thought  it  was  Dr.  Bibb." 

"  And  who  is  Dr.  Bibb,  Evelina  ?"  said  George. 

"  He's  a  young  physician,  with  whom  I  had  a  partial 
acquaintance  in  Philadelphia,  and  who  has  just  settled 
himself  in  this  place.  I  want  you  to  get  acquainted 
with  him,  for  he  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  young 
gentlemen  I  ever  knew  in  my  life." 

•'  No  doubt  1  should  be  much  pleased  with  him  ;  but 
do  you  think  he  would  feel  himself  much  honoured  or 
improved  by  an  acquaintance  with  your  father 's  collect 
ing  attorney  T  " 

"  Why  !  Is  it  possible  that  Rebecca  Freeman  has 
told  you  that !  I  never  will  speak  to  her  again.  I  am 
the  most  persecuted  being  upon  earth.  I  can  say  no 
thing  nor  do  nothing,  no  matter  how  innocent,  which 
some  one  does  not  make  a  handle  of  to  injure  me." 

Here  Miss  Evelina  burst  into  tears,  as  usual ;  but 
there  being  a  little  passion  mingled  with  her  tears  on 
this  occasion,  her  weeping  was  not  quite  as  interesting 
as  it  had  been  before.  It  subdued  George,  however, 
and  paved  the  way  to  a  reconciliation.  The  obnoxious 
expression  was  explained,  rather  awkwardly,  indeed, 
but  satisfactorily  ;  and  Miss  Freeman  was  acquitted  ol 
all  blame. 

Matters  were  just  placed  in  this  posture,  when  a  ser 
vant  arrived  to  inform  George  "  that  something  was  the 
matter  with  his  horse,  and  Mr.  Cox  (his  landlord) 
thought  he  was  going  to  die," 

George  rose,  and  was  hastening  to  the  relief  of  his 
favourite  of  all  quadrupeds,  when  Miss  Smith  burst  into 
a  very  significant  but  affected  laugh. 

"  Why,  what  is  it  amuses  you  so,  Evelina  ?"  inquired 
George,  with  some  surprise. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  she  ;  "  I  was  only  thinking  how 
quick  Mr.  Baldwin  forgets  me  when  his  horse  demands 


THE  "CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WIFE.       95 

his   attentions.     I   declare  I'm    right  jealous  of  my 
rival." 

"  Go  back,  boy,  and  tell  your  master  I  can't  come 
•ust  now  ;  but  I'll  thank  him  to  do  what  he  can  for  the 
poor  animal." 

Mr.  Cox,  upon  receiving  this  intelligence,  and  learn 
ing  the  business  which  engrossed  George's  attention 
left  the  horse  to  take  care  of  himself ;  and  he  died  jus. 
before  George  returned  from  Mr.  Smith's. 

These,  and  a  thousand  little  annoyances  which  we 
may  not  enumerate,  urged  upon  George  the  importance 
of  hastening  the  nuptials  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Accordingly,  by  all  the  dangers,  ills,  alarms,  and 
anxieties  which  attend  the  hours  of  engagement,  he 
pressed  her  to  name  the  happy  day  within  the  coming 
month  when  their  hearts  and  their  destinies  should  be 
inseparably  united. 

But  "  she  could  not  think  of  getting  married  for  two 
years  yet  to  come  ;  then  one  year  at  least.  At  all 
events,  she  could  not  appoint  a  day  until  she  consulted 
her  dear  Morgiana  Cornelia  Marsh,  of  Canaan,  Ver 
mont.  Morgiana  was  her  classmate,  and,  at  parting 
in  Philadelphia,  they  had  interchanged  pledges  that 
which  ever  got  married  first  should  be  waited  upon  by 
the  other." 

In  vain  did  George  endeavour  to  persuade  her  that 
this  was  a  school-girl  pledge,  which  Morgiana  had  al 
ready  forgotten,  and  which  she  never  would  fulfil.  His 
Arguments  only  provoked  a  reproof  of  his  unjust  sus. 
picions  of  the  "  American  fair." 

Finding  his  arguments  here  unavailing,  he  then  en 
treated  his  •'  charming  Evelina"  to  write  immediately 
to  Miss  Marsh,  to  know  when  it  would  be  agreeable  tc 
her  to  fulfil  her  promise. 

Weeks  rolled  away  before  Miss  Smith  could  be  pre 
vailed  upon  even  to  write  the  all-important  letter.  Sly 
despatched  it  at  last,  however  ;  and  George  began  > 
entertain  hopes  that  a  few  months. would  make  the  dear 
Evelina  his  own. 

In  the  mean  time  his  business  fell  in  arrears,  and  his 


96    THE  "  CHARMING  CKiATURE"'  AS  A  WJFK. 

clients  complained  loudly  against  him.  He  \\as  inces 
santly  tortured  with  false  rumours  of  his  coldness  and 
indifference  towards  Miss  Smith,  and  of  the  light  and 
disrespectful  remarks  which  he  had  made  upon  her; 
but  he  was  much  more  tortured  by  her  unabated  thirst 
for  balls  and  parties  of  pleasure  ;  her  undiminished 
love  of  general  admiration,  and  the  unconcealed  encour 
agement  which  she  gave  to  the  attentions  of  Dr.  Bibb. 
The  eftect  which  these  things  had  upon  his  temper  was 
visible  to  all  his  friends.  He  became  fretful,  petulant, 
impatient,  and  melancholy.  Dr.  Bibb  proved,  in  truth, 
to  be  a  most  accomplished,  intelligent  gentleman  ;  and 
was  the  man  who,  above  all  others,  George  would  have 
selected  for  his  friend  and  companion,  had  not  the  im- , 
prudences  of  Evelina  transformed  him  into  a  rival.  As 
things  were,  however,  his  accomplishments  only  imbit- 
tered  George's  feelings  towards  him,  provoked  from 
George  cruel,  misplaced,  and  unnatural  sarcasms, 
which  the  world  placed  to  the  account  of  jealousy,  and 
in  which  George's  conscience  forced  him  to  admit  that 
the  world  did  him  nothing  more  nor  less  than  sheer 
justice. 

At  length  Miss  Morgiana's  letter  arrived.  It  opened 
with  expressions  of  deep  contrition  that  the  writer 
"  should  have  got  married  without  giving  her  beloved 
Evelina  an  opportunity  of  fulfilling  her  promise ;  but 
really,  after  all,  she  was  not  to  blame  ;  for  she  did  pro 
pose  to  write  to  her  beloved  Evelina  to  come  on  to 
Canaan  ;  but  papa  and  Mr.  Huntington  (her  husband) 
would  not  hear  to  it ;  indeed,  they  both  got  almost  vex- 
^d  that  she  should  think  of  such  a  thing."  *  * 

"  But,  as  soon  as  my  beloved 

Evelina  gets  married,  she  must  appoint  a  time  at  which 
we  can  meet  at  Philadelphia  with  our  husbands,  and 
compare  notes."  *  *  * 

*  "I  have  a  thousand  secrets  to  tell  you 

about  married  life  ;  but  I  must  reserve  them  till  we 
meet.  A  thousand  kisses  to  your  dear  George  for  me  ; 
and  tell  him,  if  I  were  not  a  married  woman,  I  should 
certainly  fall  in  love  with  him,  from  your  description 
fhim." 


THE    "  CHARMING    CREATURE  *    AS    A    WIFE.  97 

•'  Well,  I  declare,"  said  Evelina,  as  she  folded  up  the 
etter,  "  I  could  not  have  believed  that  Morgiana  would 
have  served  me  so.  I  would  have  died  before  I  would 
have  treated  her  in  the  same  way." 

The  great  obstacle  being  now  removed,  the  wedding 
night  was  fixed  at  the  shortest  time  that  it  could  be  to 
allow  the  necessary  preparations,  which  was  just  three 
months  ahead. 

Before  these  three  months  rolled  away,  George  be 
came  convinced  that  he  had  staked  his  earthly  happiness 
upon  the  forlorn  hope  of  reforming  Miss  Smith's  errors 
after  marriage  ;  but  his  sense  of  honour  was  too  refined 
to  permit  him  to  harbour  a  thought  of  breaking  the  en- 
gagement ;  and,  indeed,  so  completely  had  he  become 
enamoured  of  her,  that  any  perils  seemed  preferable  to 
giving  her  up  for  ever. 

He  kept  his  parents  faithfully  advised  of  all  the  inci 
dents  of  his  love  and  courtship,  and  every  letter  which 
he  forwarded  went  like  a  serpent  into  the  Eden  of  peace 
over  which  they  presided.  Their  letters  to  him  never 
came  unembalmed  in  a  mother's  tears,  and  were  nev 
er  read  without  the  tender  response  which  a  mother's 
tears  ever  draws  from  the  eyes  of  a  truly  affeciionat" 
son. 

The  night  came,  and  George  and  Evelina  wer<; 
married. 

A  round  of  bridal  parties  succeeded,  every  one  of 
which  served  only  to  b  ;i<rhten  George's  alarms  and  to 
depress  his  spirits.  He  oould  not  discover  that  mar 
riage  had  abated,  in  tho  smallest  d  :gree,  his  wife's  love 
of  general  admiration  and  hattery.  The  delight  which 
she  felt  at  the  attentions  of  thn  young  gentlemen  was 
visible  to  more  eyes  than  his,  as  was  plainly  evinced  by 
the  throngs  which  attended  her  wheresoever  she  moved. 
Occasionally  their  assiduities  assumed  a  freedom  which 
was  well  calculated  to  alarm  and  to  inflame  one  whose 
notions  of  married  life  were  much  less  refined  than  those 
which  George  had  ever  entertained  ;  but  there  was  an 
apology  for  them,  which  he  knew  he  would  be  forced 
to  admit,  flimsy  as  it  was  in  truth,  namely,  "they 


48  THE   "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS    A     »VIFE. 

were  only  those  special  attentions  which  were  due  to 
the  queen  of  a  bridal  party."  Another  consideration 
forced  him  to  look  in  silence  upon  those  liberties.  His 
wife  had  taken  no  offence  at  them.  She  either  did  not 
repel  them  at  all,  or*she  repelled  them  in  such  a  good- 
humoured  way,  that  she  encouraged  rather  than  pre 
vented  the  repetition  of  them.  For  him,  therefore,  to 
have  interposed,  would  have  been  considered  an  act  of 
supererogation. 

To  the  great  delight  of  George,  the  parties  ended, 
and  the  young  couple  set  out  on  a  visit  to  Lagrange,  the 
residence  of  George's  parents.  On  their  way  thither, 
Evelina  was  secluded,  of  course,  from  the  gaze  of  eve. 
ry  person  but  her  husband  ;  and  her  attachment  now  be. 
came  as  much  too  ardent  as  it  had  before  been  too  cold. 
If,  at  their  stages,  he  left  her  for  a  moment,  she  was 
piqued  at  his  coldness  or  distressed  at  his  neglect.  If 
he  engaged  in  a  conversation  with  an  acquaintance  or 
a  stranger,  he  was  sure  to  be  interrupted  by  his  wife'? 
waiting-maid,  Flora,  with  "  Miss  V'lina  say,  please  go 
da,  sir ;"  and  when  he  went,  he  always  found  her  in 
tears  or  in  a  pet  at  having  been  neglected  so  long  by 
him,  "  when  he  knew  she  had  no  friend  or  companion 
to  entertain  her  but  himself." 

George  had  been  long  acquainted  with  the  ladies  of 
the  houses  at  which  they  stopped.  They  all  esteemed 
him,  and  were  all  anxious  to  he  made  acquainted  with 
his  wife ;  but  she  could  not  be  drawn  from  her  room, 
from  the  time  she  entered  a  house  until  she  rose  to  leave 
it.  All  her  meals  were  taken  in  her  room  ;  and  George 
was  rebuked  by  her  because  he  would  not  follow  her 
example.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  reasoned  with  her 
upon  the  impropriety  of  changing  his  deportment  to 
his  old  acquaintances  immediately  after  his  marriage. 
He  stated  to  her  that  the  change  would  be  attributed 
to  prHe  ;  that  he  should  lose  a  number  of  humble  but 
valuable  acquaintances,  which,  to  a  professional  gentle 
man,  is  no  small  loss.  But  "  she  could  not  understand 
that  a  gentleman  is  at  liberty  to  neglect  his  wife  foi 
humble  but  valuable  acquaintances. '  " 


THE    "  CHARMING    CKEATURfi"    HS    A    WIFE.  9D 

When  they  reached  Lagrange,  they  received  as  warm 
a  welcome  from  George's  parents,  as  parents,  labouring 
under  their  apprehensions,  could  give  ;  but  Mary  and 
Martha,  having  nothing  to  mar  their  pleasures  (for  they 
had  not  been  permitted  to  know  the  qualifications  which 
George's  last  letters  had  annexed  to  his  first),  received 
her  with  all  the  delight  which  the  best  hearts  could  feel, 
at  welcoming  to  the  family,  in  the  character  of  a  sister, 
the  beautiful,  amiable,  accomplished,  intelligent,  weal- 
thy  Miss  Smith.  In  anticipation  of  her  coming,  the 
girls  had  brushed  up  their  history,  philosophy,  geogra 
phy,  astronomy,  and  botany,  for  her  especial  entertain 
ment,  or,  rather,  that  they  might  appear  a  little  at  home 
when  their  new  sister  should  invite  them  to  a  ramble 
over  the  fields  of  science.  The  labour  answered  not 
its  purpose,  however  :  Evelina  would  neither  invite  nor 
be  invited  to  any  such  rambles. 

The  news  of  George's  arrival  at  Lagrange  with  his 
wife  brought  many  of  his  rustic  acquaintances  to  visit 
him.  To  many  of  them  George  was  as  a  son  or  a 
brother,  for  he  had  been  acquainted  with  them  from  his 
earliest  years,  and  he  had  a  thousand  times  visited  their 
habitations  with  the  freedom  with  which  he  entered  his» 
father's.  They  met  him,  therefore,  with  unrestrained 
familiarity,  and  treated  his  wife  as  a  part  of  himself 
George  had  endeavoured  to  prepare  her  for  the  plain, 
blunt,  but  honest  familiarities  of  his  early  friends.  He 
had  assured  her  that,  however  rude  they  might  seem, 
they  were  perfectly  innocent ;  nay,  they  were  tokens  oi 
guileless  friendship  ;  for  the  natural  disposition  of  plain 
unlettered  farmers  was  to  keep  aloof  from  "  the  quality," 
as  they  called  the  people  of  the  town,  and  that,  by  as 
much  as  they  overcame  this  disposition,  by  so  much  did 
they  mean  to  be  understood  as  evincing  favour  ;  but 
Evelina  profited  but  little  by  his  lessons. 

The  first  visitor  was  old  Mr.  Dawson,  wno  had 
dandled  George  on  his  knee  a  thousand  times,  and  who 
next  to  his  father,  was  the  sincerest  male  friend  tha/ 
George  had  living. 

"  Well,  Georgy,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  you  ve  go* 
married  ?" 


IUO    THE  "  CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WIFE. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Sammy,  and  here's  my  wife ;  what  do 
you  think  of  her  ?" 

"  Why,  she's  a  mighty  pretty  creator  ;  but  you'd  bet 
ter  took  my  Nance.  She'd  'ave  made  you  another  sort 
of  wife  to  this  pretty  little  soft  creater.''' 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Evelina,  a  little  fiery,  "  ho^r 
you  can  tell  what  sort  of  a  wife  a  person  will  make 
whom  you  never  saw.  And  I  presume  Mr.  Baldwin  is 
old  enough  to  choose  for  himself." 

"Ah,  well,  now  I  know  he'd  better  'ate  took  my 
Nance,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  dry  smile.  "  Georgy, 
my  son,  I'm  afraid  you've  got  yourself  into  bad  busi 
ness  ;  but  I  wish  you  much  happiness,  my  boy.  Come, 
Neighbour  Baldwin,  let's  go  take  a  look  at  your  farm." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  old  Mr.  Baldwin,  "  we  will  not  go  till 
I  make  my  daughter  better  acquainted  with  you.  She 
is  unused  to  our  country  manners,  and,  therefore,  does 
not  understand  them.  Evelina,  my  dear,  Mr.  Dawson 
is  one  of  our  best  and  kindest  neighbours,  and  you  and 
he  must  not  break  upon  your  first  acquaintance.  He 
was  only  joking  George  in  what  he  said,  and  had  no 
idea  that  you  would  take  it  seriously." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Evelina,  "  if  Mr.  Dawson  will  say 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  wound  my  feelings,  I'm  willing 
to  forgive  him." 

"  Oh,  God  love  your  pretty  little  soul  of  you,"  said 
the  old  man,  "  I  didn't  even  know  you  had  any  feelings  ; 
but  as  to  the  forgiving  part,  why,  that's  neither  here 
nor  there."  Here  Evelina  rose  indig'  antly  and  left 
the  room. 

"  Well,  Georgy,  my  son,"  continu  ,d  the  old  man 
"  I'm  sorry  your  wife's  so  touchy  !  b  it  you  mustn't  for. 
get  old  Daddy  Dawson.  Come,  my  boy,  to  our  house, 
like  you  used  to,  when  you,  and  Sammy,  and  Nancy 
used  to  sit  round  the  bowl  of  buttermilk  under  the  big 
oak  that  covered  Mammy  Dawson's  dairy.  I  ahvaya 
think  of  poor  Sammy  when  I  see  you"  (brushing  a  tear 
from  his  eye  with  th-j  back  of  his  hand).  "  I'm  obliged 
to  love  you,  you  y  ung  dog  ;  and  I  want  to  love  your 
wife  too,  if  she'd  I.  t  me  ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  Sam- 


THE    "  CHARMING    CREATUJiE"   AS    A    VMFE.         10J 

iny's  playmate  won't  forget  Daddy  Dawson,  will  he 
George?" 

George  could  only  say  "  Never  !"  with  a  filling  eye, 
and  the  old  men  set  out  for  the  fields. 

Most  of  the  neighbours  who  came  to  greet  George 
upon  his  return  to  Lagrange  shared  Mr.  Dawson's  fate. 
One  wanted  to  span  Evelina's  waist,  for  he  declared 
"  she  was  the  littlest  creator  round  the  waist  he  ever 
seed."  Another  would  "  buss  her,  because  she  was 
George's  wife,  and  because  it  was  the  first  chance  he 
ever  had  in  all  his  life  to  buss  '  the  quality.' ':  A  third 
proposed  a  swap  of  wives  with  George ;  and  all  made 
some  remark  too  blunt  for  Evelina's  refined  ear.  Hav 
ing  no  tact  for  turning  off  these  things  playfully,  and 
as  little  disposition  to  do  so,  she  repelled  them  with  a 
town  dignity,  which  soon  relieved  her  of  these  in 
trusions  ;  and  in  less  than  a  week,  stopped  the  visits 
of  George's  first  and  warmest  friends  to  his  father's 
house. 

Her  habits,  views,  and  feelings  agreeing  in  nothing 
with  the  family  in  which  she  was  placed,  Evelina  was 
unhappy  herself,  and  made  all  around  her  unhappy. 
Her  irregular  hours  of  retiring  and  rising,  her  dilatori 
ness  in  attending  her  meals,  her  continual  complaints 
of  indisposition,  deranged  all  the  regulations  of  the 
family,  and  begat  such  confusion  in  the  household,  that 
even  the  elder  Mrs.  Baldwin  occasionally  lost  her  equa 
nimity  ;  so  that,  when  Evelina  announced,  a  week  be 
fore  the  appointed  time,  that  she  must  return  home,  the 
intelligence  was  received  with  pleasure  rather  than 
pain. 

Upon  their  return  home,  George  and  his  lady  found 
a  commodious  dwelling  handsomely  furnished  ibr  theii 
reception.  Mr.  Smith  presented  him  this  in  lieu  of  the 
check  of  which  he  had  spoken  before  the  marriage  of 
his  daughter  ;  and  though  the  gift  did  not  redeem  the 
promise  by  $14,000,  George  was  perfectly  satisfied. 
Mrs.  Smith  added  to  the  donation  her  own  cook  and 
carriage-driver.  Flora,  the  maid,  had  been  t  onsiderrd 
F<v*.ljna'«  from  her  infancy.  Nothing  couV  »ave  bet  t 
\\ 


102        THE    "CHARMING    CREATURE7'    AS    A    WIFE. 

more  agreeable  to  George  than  the  news  that  greeted 
him  on  his  arrival,  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  name  the 
day  when  he  would  conduct  Evelina  to  his  own  house  ; 
for  his  last  hope  of  happiness  hung  upon  this  last  change 
of  life.  He  allowed  himself  but  two  days  after  his  re- 
turn  to  lay  in  his  store  of  provisions  ;  and  on  the  third, 
at  four  in  the  afternoon,  he  led  his  wife  to  their  mutual 
home. 

"  To  this  moment,  my  dear  Evelina,"  said  George, 
as  they  seated  themselves  in  their  own  habitation,  "  to 
this  moment  have  I  looked  forward  for  many  months 
with  the  liveliest  interest.  I  have  often  figured  to  my 
self  the  happy  hours  that  we  should  enjoy  under  the 
common  roof,  and  I  hope  the  hour  has  arrived  when  we 
will  unite  our  endeavours  to  realize  my  fond  anticipa 
tions.  Let  us,  then,  upon  the  commencement  of  a  new 
life,  interchange  our  pledges  that  we  will  each  exert 
ourselves  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the  other.  In 
many  respects,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  our 
views  and  dispositions  are  different ;  but  they  will 
soon  be  assimilated  by  identity  of  interest,  communi 
ty  of  toil,  and  a  frank  and  affectionate  interchange  of 
opinions,  if  we  will  but  consent  to  submit  to  some  lit 
tle  sacrifices  in  the  beginning  to  attain  this  object. 
Now  tell  me,  candidly  and  fearlessly,  my  Evelina,  what 
would  you  have  me  be,  and  what  would  you  have  me 
do,  to  answer  vour  largest  wishes  from  your  hus 
band  ?" 

"  I  would  have  you,"  said  Evelina,  "  think  more  of 
me  than  all  the  world  beside  ;  I  would  have  you  the 
first  lawyer  in  the  state  ;  I  would  have  you  overcome 
your  dislike  to  such  innocent  amusements  as  tea-par 
ties  and  balls  ;  and  I  would  have  you  take  me  to  the 
Springs,  or  to  New-York,  or  Philadelphia,  every  sum 
mer.  Now  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?" 

"  I  would  have  you  rise  when  I  do  ;  regulate  your 
servants  with  system  ;  see  that  they  perform  their  du 
ties  in  the  proper  way  and  the  proper  time  ;  let  all  pro 
visions  go  through  your  hands  ;  and  devote  your  spare 
time  to  reading  valuable  works,  painting,  music,  or  any 


THE    "CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS   A    WIFE.         103 

othtr  improving  employment  or  innocent  recreation. 
Be  thus,  and  I  'will  think  more  of  you  than  all  the  world 
beside  ;'  '  I  will  be  the  first  lawyer  in  the  state  ;'  and, 
after  a  few  years,  '  you  sJw.ll  visit  the  North  or  the 
Springs  every  summer,  if  you  desire  it.'  " 

"  Lord,  if  I  do  all  these  things  you  mention,  I  shall 
have  no  time  for  reading,  music,  or  painting." 
"  Yes  you  will.  My  mother — " 
"  Oh,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  Mr.  Baldwin,  hush  talking 
about  your  mother.  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  hearing  you 
talk  of '  my  mother'  this,  and  '  my  mother'  that ;  and, 
when  I  went  to  your  house,  I  didn't  see  that  she  got 
along  a  bit  better  than  my  mother,  except  in  her  cook- 
ing  :  and  that  was  only  because  your  mother  cooked 
the  meats,  and  your  sisters  made  the  pastry.  I  don't 
see  the  use  of  having  servants  if  one  must  do  every, 
thing  herself." 

"  My  sisters  make  the  pastry,  to  be  sure ;  because 
mother  desires  that  they  should  learn  how  to  do  these 
things,  that  they  may  better  superintend  the  doing  of 
them  when  they  get  married  ;  and  because  she  thinks 
such  things  should  not  pass  through  the  hands  of  ser 
vants  when  it  can  be  avoided  ;  but  my  mother  never 
cooks." 

"  She  does,  for  I  saw  her  lifting  off  a  pot  myself." 
"  She  does  not — " 

Here  the  entry  of  the  cook  stopped  a  controversy 
that  was  becoming  rather  warm  for  the  first  evening  at 
home. 

"  I  want  the  keys,  Miss  'V'lina,  to  get  out  supper," 
said  the  cook. 

"  There  they  are,  aunt*  Clary,"  said  Evelina  ;  "  try 
and  have  everything  very  rice." 

"  My  dear,  I  wouldn't  send  her  to  the  provisions  un 
attended  :  everything  depends  upon  your  commencing 
right-" 

"Hush!"  said    Evelina,  with   some  agitation;  "I 

*  Aunt"  and  "  mauma,"  or  "  maum,"  its  abbreviation,  are  terms  ol 
i««pect  commonly  used  by  children  to  aged  negroes.  The  first  gen 
erallj  prevails  in  the  up  country,  and  the  second  on  the  seaboard. 


104   THE  "  CHARMING  CREATUAE"  AS  A  TV  1*3 

wouldn't  have  her  hear  you  for  the  worjd.     Sh>   .1  bt 
very  angry  if  she  thought  we  suspected  her  hoi.  ;sty. 
Ma  always  gave  her  up  the   keys,  and  she  say  ••  she 
never  detected  her  in  a  theft  in  all  her  life." 
"  Very  well,"  said  George,  "  we'll  see." 
After  a  long  waiting,  the  first  supper  made  it  i  ap 
pearance.     It  consisted  of  smoked  tea,  half-baked  bis. 
cuit,  butter,  and  sliced  venison. 

"  Why,"  said  Evelina,  as  she  sipped  her  first  cup  ol 
tea, "  this  tea  seems  to  me  to  be  smoked.  Here,  Flora 
throw  it  out  and  make  some  more.  Oh  me  !  the  bis 
cuit  an't  done.  Aunt  Clary's  made  quite  an  unfortu 
nate  beginning.  But  I  didn't  want  any  supper — do 
you  ?" 

"  I  can  do  without  it,"  said  George,  coldly,  "  if  you 
can." 

"  Well,  let's  not  eat  any,  and  that  wil!  be  the  very 
way  to  mortify  aunt  Clary,  without  making  her  mad. 
To-morrow  I'll  laugh  at  her  for  cheating  us  out  of  our 
supper  ;  and  she  won't  do  so  any  more.  The  old  crea- 
ture  has  very  tender  feelings." 

'"  I'll  starve  for  a  week  to  save  Clary's  feelings,"  said 
George,  "  if  you  will  only  quit  aunting  her.  How  can 
you  expect  her  to  treat  you  or  your  orders  with  respect, 
when  you  treat  her  as  your  superior?" 

"  Well,  really,  I  can't  see  any  great  harm  in  treat 
ing  aged- people  with  respect,  even  if  their  skins  are 
black." 

"  I  wish  you  had  thought  of  that  when  you  wery 
talking  to  old  Mr.  Dawson.  I  should  think  he  was  en 
titled  to  as  much  respect  as  an  infernal  black  wench  !" 

This  was  the  harshest  expression  that  had  ever  es 
caped  George's  lips.  Evelina  could  not  stand  it. 
She  left  the  room,  threw  herself  on  a  bed,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  the  matter  was  adjusted. 

The  next  morning  George  rose  with  the  sun,  and  he 
tried  to  prevail  upon  his  wife  to  do  the  same  ;  but  "she 
could  not  see  what  was  the  use  of  her  getting  up  so 
soon,  just  to  set  about  doing  nothing  :  and,  to  silence 


THE  "  CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WIPE.    105 

all  farther  importunities  then  and  after  upon  that  score, 
she  told  him  flatly  she  never  would  consent  to  rise  ai 
that  hour." 

At  half  after  eight  she  made  her  appearance,  and 
breakfast  came  in.  It  consisted  of  muddy  coffee,  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  and  hard-burnt  biscuit. 

"  Why,  what  has  got  into  aunt  Clary,"  said  Evelina 
*  that  she  cooks  so  badly  !" 

"  Why,  we  mortified  her  so  much,  my  dear,  by  eat 
ing  no  supper,"  said  George,  "  that  we  have  driven  hei 
to  the  opposite  extreme.  Let  us  now  throw  the  break 
fast  upon  her  hands,  except  the  coffee,  and  perhaps 
she'll  be  mortified  back  to  a  medium." 

"  That's  very  witty,  indeed,"  said  Evelina  ;  "  yoy 
must  have  learned  it  from  the  amiable  and  accomplish, 
ed  Miss  Nancy  Dawson." 

This  was  an  allusion  which  George  could  not  with 
stand  ;  and  he  reddened  to  scarlet. 

"  Evelina,"  said  he,  "  you  are  certainly  the  strangest 
being  that  I  ever  met  with  ;  you  are  more  respectful  to 
negroes  than  whites,  and  to  everybody  else  than  your 
husband." 

"  Because,"  returned  she,  "  negroes  treat  me  with 
more  respect  than  some  whites  ;  and  everybody  else 
with  more  respect  than  my  husband." 

George  was  reluctant  to  commence  tightening  the 
reins  of  discipline  with  his  servants  for  the  first  few 
weeks  of  his  mastership  :  and,  therefore,  he  bore  in 
silence,  but  in  anger,  their  idleness,  their  insolence, 
and  their  disgusting  familiarities  with  his  wife.  He 
often  visited  the  kitchen,  unobserved,  of  nights  ;  and 
almost  always  found  it  thronged  with  gay  company, 
revelling  in  all  the  dainties  of  his  closet,  smokehouse, 
sideboard,  and  pantry.  He  communicated  his  dis 
coveries  to  his  wife,  but  she  found  no  difficulty  in 
accounting  satisfactorily  for  all  that  he  had  soen. 
"Clary's  husband  had  always  supplied  her  with  every, 
thing  she  wanted.  Flora  had  a  hundred  ways  of 
getting  money  ;  and  Billy  (the  carriage-driver)  was 
nlways  receiving  little  p-esents  from  her  and  others." 


106   THE  "  CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  A  WIFE. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  aunt  Clary  announced 
that  the  harre '.  of  flour  was  out. 

"  Now,"  said  George,  "  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  that 
it  is  upon  your  flour,  and  not  upon  her  husband's,  that 
aunt  Clarij  gives  her  entertainments." 

"  Why,  law  me  !"  said  Evelina,  "  I  think  it  has  last 
ed  wonderfully.  You  recollect  ma  and  pa  hove  been 
here  most  every  day." 

"  Had  they  boarded  with  us,"  said  George,  "  we 
could  not  have  consumed  a  barrel  of  flour  in  three 
weeks." 

In  quick  succession  came  the  news  that  the  tea,  cof 
fee,  and  sugar  were  out ;  all  of  which  Evelina  though! 
"  had  lasted  wonderfully." 

It  would  be  useless  to  recount  the  daily  differences 
of  George  and  his  wife.  In  nothing  could  they  agree  ; 
and  the  consequence  was,  that,  at  the  end  of  six  weeks, 
they  had  come  to  downright  quarrelling  ;  through  all 
which  Evelina  sought  and  received  the  sympathy  of 
Miss  Flora  and  aunt  Clary. 

About  this  time  the  Superior  Court  commenced  its 
session  in  the  city  ;  and  a  hundred  like  favours,  receiv 
ed  from  the  judge  and  the  bar.  imposed  upon  George 
the  absolute  necessity  of  giving  a  dinner  to  his  brethren. 
He  used  every  precaution  to  pass  it  off  well.  He  gave 
his  wife  four  days'  notice  ;  he  provided  everything  him 
self,  of  the  best  that  the  town  could  afford  ;  he  became 
all  courtesy  and  affection  to  his  wife,  and  all  respect 
and  cheerfulness  to  aunt  Clary,  in  the  interim.  He 
promised  all  the  servants  a  handsome  present  each  if 
they  would  acquit  themselves  well  upon  this  occasion 
and  charged  them  all,  over  and  over,  to  remember, 
that  the  time  between  two  and  half  past  three  was  all 
that  the  bar  could  allow  to  his  entertainment ;  and, 
consequently,  dinner  must  be  upon  the  table  precisely 
at  two. 

The  day  came  and  the  company  assembled.  Eve 
lina,  attired  like  a  queen,  received  them  in  the  draw, 
ing-room,  and  all  were  delighted  with  her.  All  were 
cheerful,  talkative,  and  happy.  Two  o'clock  came 


THE    "  CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS   A    WIFE.        10"7 

and  no  dinner  ;  a  quarter  after,  and  no  dinner.  The 
conversation  began  to  flag  a  little.  Half  past  two  roll- 
ed  round,  and  no  dinner.  Conversation  sunk  to  tern- 
perate,  and  George  rose  to  intemperate.  Three  quar 
ters  past  two  came,  but  no  dinner.  Conversation  sunk 
to  freezing,  and  George  rose  to  fever  heat. 

At  this  interesting  moment,  while  he  was  sauntering 
every  way,  George  sauntered  near  his  wife,  who  was 
deeply  engaged  in  a  conversation  with  his  brother 
Paine,  a  grave,  intelligent  young  man,  and  he  detected 
her  in  the  act  of  repeating,  verbatim  et  literatim,  the 
pretty  sentences  which  first  subdued  his  heart. 

"  Good  Lord  !"  muttered  George  to  himself;  "  Jen- 
kinson,  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  with  his  one  sentence 
of  learning  revived !" 

He  rushed  out  of  the  room  in  order  to  inquire  what 
delayed  dinner  ;  and,  on  leaving  the  dining-room,  was 
met  at  the  door  by  Flora,  with  two  pale-blue,  dry,  boil, 
cd  fowls  ;  boiled  almost  to  dismemberment,  upon  a 
dish  large  enough  to  contain  a  goodly-sized  shote  ; 
their  legs  sticking  straight  out,  with  a  most  undigni 
fied  straddle,  and  bowing  with  a  bewitching  grace  and 
elasticity  to  George  with  every  step  that  Flora  made. 

Behind  her  followed  Billy,  with  a  prodigious  roast 
turkey,  upon  a  dish  that  was  almost  concealed  by  its 
contents,  his  legs  extended  like  the  fowls,  the  back  and 
sides  burned  to  a  crisp,  and  the  breast  raw.  The  old 
gentleman  was  handsomely  adorned  with  a  large  black 
twine  necklace  ;  and  through  a  spacious  window  that, 
by  chance  or  design,  the  cook  had  left  open,  the  light 
poured  into  his  vacant  cavity  gloriously. 

George  stood  petrified  at  the  sight ;  nor  did  he  wake 
from  his  stupor  of  amazement  until  he  was  roused  by 
a  burned  round  of  beef  and  a  raw  leg  of  mutton  making 
oy  him  for  the  same  port  in  which  the  fowls  and  tur 
key  had  been  moored. 

He  rushed  into  the  kitchen  in  a  fury.  "  You  infer- 
lal  heifer !"  said  he  to  aunt  Clary ;  "  what  kind  of 
looking  is  this  you're  setting  before  my  company  ?" 

"  Eh— eh  !     Name  o'  God.  Mas  Gw       how  any 


108      THE    "CHARMING    CREATURE"    AS    IL    WIFE. 

body    gwine    cook    ting   good   when  you   hurry    'em 

80?" 

George  looked  for  something  to  thro.v  at  her  head, 
but  fortunately  found  nothing. 

He  returned  to  the  house,  and  found  his  wife  enter 
taining  the  company  with  a  never-ending  sonata  on  the 
piano. 

Dinner  was  at  length  announced,  and  an  awful  sight 
it  was  when  full  spread.  George  made  as  good  apolo 
gies  as  he  could,  but  his  wife  was  not  in  the  least  dis 
concerted  ;  indeed,  she  seemed  to  assume  an  air  of 
self-cornplaisance  at  the  profusion  and  richness  which 
crowned  her  board. 

The  gentlemen  ate  but  little,  owing,  as  they  said,  to 
their  having  all  eaten  a  very  hearty  breakfast  that  morn 
ing.  George  followed  his  guests  to  the  Courthouse, 
craved  i  continuance  of  his  cases  for  the  evening  on 
the  ground  of  indisposition,  and  it  was  granted,  with  an 
unaccountable  display  of  sympathy.  He  returned 
home,  and  embarked  in  a  quarrel  with  his  wife,  which 
lasted  until  Evelina's  exhausted  nature  sunk  to  sleep 
unde~  it,  at  three  the  next  morning. 

George's  whole  character  now  became  completely 
revolutionized.  Universal  gloom  overspread  his  coun 
tenance.  He  lost  his  spirits,  his  energy,  his  life,  his 
temper,  his  everything  ennobling  ;  and  he  had  just  be 
gan  to  surrender  himself  to  the  bottle,  when  an  acci 
dent  occurred  which  revived  his  hopes  of  happiness 
with  his  wife,  and  determined  him  to  make  one  more 
effort  to  bring  her  into  his  views. 

Mr.  Smith,  by  an  unfortunate  investment  in  cotton, 
failed  ;  and,  after  a  bungling  attempt  to  secrete  a  few 
thousand  dollars  from  his  creditors  (for  he  knew  George 
too  well  to  claim  his  assistance  in  such  a  matter),  he 
was  loft  without  a  dollar  that  he  could  call  his  own. 
Evolina  and  her  parents  all  seemed  as  if  they  would 
go  crazy  under  the  misfortune  ;  and  George  now  as 
sumed  the  most  affectionate  deportment  to  his  wife, 
and  the  most  soothing  demeanour  to  her  parents.  The 
parents  were  completely  won  to  him ;  and  his  wife. 


THE  "  CHARMING  CREATURE"  AS  L  WIFE.   109 

for  once,  seemed  to  feel  towards  him  as  she  should, 
George  availed  himself  of  this  moment  to  make  an. 
other,  and  the  last  attempt,  to  reform  her  habits  and 
sentiments. 

''  My  dear  Evelina,"  said  he,  "  we  have  nothing  now 
to  look  to  but  our  own  exertions  for  a  support.  This, 
and  indeed  affluence,  lies  within  our  reach,  if  we  will 
but  seek  them  in  a  proper  way.  You  have  only  to  use 
industry  and  care  within  doors,  and  I  without,  to  place 
us,  in  a  very  few  years,  above  the  frowns  of  fortune. 
We  have  only  to  consult  each  other's  happiness  to 
make  each  other  happy.  Come,  then,  my  love,  forget 
ting  our  disgraceful  bickerings,  let  us  now  commence 
a  new  life.  Believe  me,  there  is  no  being  on  this  earth 
that  my  heart  can  love  as  it  can  you,  if  you  will  but 
claim  its  affections  ;  and  you  know  how  to  command 
them."  Thus,  at  much  greater  length,  and  with  much 
more  tenderness,  did  George  address  her.  His  appeal 
had,  for  a  season,  its  desired  effect.  Evelina  rose  with 
him,  retired  with  him,  read  with  him.  She  took  charge 
of  the  keys,  dealt  out  the  stores  with  her  own  hand, 
visited  the  kitchen ;  in  short,  she  became  everything 
George  could  wish  or  expect  from  one  of  her  inex 
perience.  Things  immediately  wore  a  new  aspect. 
George  became  himself  again.  He  recommenced  his 
studies  with  redoubled  assiduity.  The  community 
saw  and  delighted  in  the  change,  and  the  bar  began  to 
tremble  at  his  giant  strides  in  his  profession.  But  alas, 
his  bliss  was  doomed  to  a  short  duration.  Though 
Evelina  saw,  and  felt,  and  acknowleged  the  advantages 
and  blessings  of  her  new  course  of  conduct,  she  had  to 
preserve  it  by  a  struggle  against  niture  ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  three  months,  nature  triumphed  over  resolution, 
and  she  relapsed  into  her  old  habits.  George  now  sur 
rendered  himself  to  drink  and  to  despair,  and  died  the 
drunkard's  death.  At  another  time  I  may  perhaps 
give  the  melancholy  account  of  his  ruin  in  detail,  tra 
cing  its  consequences  down  to  the  moment  at  which  I 
am  now  writing.  Should  this  time  never  arrive,  let 
the  fate  of  my  poor  nephew  be  a  warning  to  mother? 
K 


110  THE    GANDER    PULLING. 

against  bringing  up  their  daughters  to  be  "  CHARMIIT 
CREATURES." 

BALDWIN. 


THE  GANDER  PULLING. 

In  the  year  1798  I  resided  in  the  city  of  Augusta 
and,  upon  visiting  the  market. house  one  morning  in 
that  year,  my  attention  was  called  to  the  following  no- 
tice,  stuck  upon  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  building . 

"  advurtysement. 

"  Thos  woo  wish  To  be  inform  heareof,  is  heareof 
notyfide  that  edwd.  Prator  will  giv  a  gander  pullin,  jis 
this  side  of  harisburg,  on  Satterday  of  thes  pressents 
munth  to  All  woo  mout  wish  to  partak  tharofl 

"  e  Prator,  thos  wishin  to  purtak 
will  cum  yearly,  as  the  pullin  will  begin  soon. 

"c.  p." 

If  I  am  asked  why  "jis  this  side  of  harisburg"  was 
selected  for  the  promised  feat  instead  of  the  city  of 
Augusta,  I  answer  from  conjecture,  but  with  some 
confidence,  because  the  ground  chosen  was  near  the 
central  point  between  four  rival  towns,  the  citizens  o< 
all  which  "  mout  wish  to  partak  tharof;"  namely,  Au 
gusta,  Springfield,  Harrisburg,  and  Campbellton.  Nol 
that  each  was  the  rival  of  all  the  others,  but  that  th<? 
first  and  the  last  were  competitors,  and  each  of  the 
others  backed  the  pretensions  of  its  nearest  neighbour 
Harrisburg  sided  with  Campbellton,  not  because  she- 
had  any  interest  in  seeing  the  business  of  the  two  staff- 
centre  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  nearly  opposite  to  her , 
but  because,  like  the  "  Union  Democratic  Republican 
Party  of  Georgia,"  she  thought,  after  the  adoption  of 
the  Federal  Constitution,  that  the  several  towns  of  the 
lonfcderacy  should  no  longer  be  "  separated"  by  thr 


THE    GANDER    PULLING.  Ml 

distinction  of  local  party;  but  that,  laying  down  all 
former  prejudices  and  jealousies  as  a  sacrifice  on  the 
altar  of  their  country,  they  should  become  united  in  a 
single  body,  for  the  maintenance  of  those  principles 
which  they  deemed  essential  to  the  public  welfare. 

Springfield,  on  the  other  hand,  espoused  the  State 
Rights'  creed.  She  admitted  that,  under  the  Federal 
Compact,  she  ought  to  love  the  sister  states  very  much; 
but  that,  under  the  Social  Compact,  she  ought  to  love 
her  own  state  a  little  more  ;  and  she  thought  the  two 
compacts  perfectly  reconcilable  to  each  other.  In 
stead  of  the  towns  of  the  several  states  getting  into 
single  bodies  to  preserve  the  public  welfare,  her  doc 
trine  was,  that  they  should  be  kept  in  separate  bodies 
to  preserve  the  private  welfare.  She  admitted  frank 
ly,  that,  living,  as  she  always  had  lived,  right  amid 
gullies,  vapours,  fogs,  creeks,  and  lagoons,  she  was 
wholly  incapable  of  comprehending  that  expansive 
kind  of  benevolence,  which  taught  her  to  love  people 
whom  she  knew  nothing  about,  as  much  as  her  next- 
door  neighbours  and  friends.  Until,  therefore,  she 
should  learn  it  from  the  practical  operation  of  the 
Federal  Compact,  she  would  stick  to  the  oldfashioned 
Scotch  love,  which  she  understood  perfectly,  and  "  go 
in"  for  Augusta,  live  or  die,  hit  or  miss,  right  or 
wrong.  As  in  the  days  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  the  Spring, 
field  doctrines  prevailed,  Campbellton  was  literally 
nullified  j  insomuch  that,  ten  years  ago,  there  was  not 
a  house  left  to  mark  the  spot  where  once  flourished 
this  active,  busy  little  village.  Those  who  are  curi. 
ous  to  know  where  Springfield  stood  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  speaking,  have  only  to  take  their  position 
at  the  intersection  of  Broad  and  Marbury  streets,  in 
the  city  of  Augusta,  and  they  will  be  in  the  very  heart 
of  old  Springfield.  Sixty  steps  west,  and  as  many 
east  of  this  position,  will  measure  the  whole  length  of 
thisJeffersonian  republican  village,  which  never  boasted 
of  more  than  four  dwelling-houses  ;  and  Broad-street 
measures  its  width,  if  we  exclude  kitchens  and  stables. 
A.nd,  while  upon  this  subject,  since  it  has  been  predict 


113  THE    GANDER    PULLING. 

ed  by  a  man  for  whose  opinions  I  entertain  the  pro. 
foundest  respect*  (especially  since  the  prediction),  thai 
my  writings  will  be  read  with  increased  interest  a 
hundred  years  to  comp ;  and  as  I  can  see  no  good 
reason,  if  this  be  true,  why  they  should  not  be  read 
a  thousand  years  hence  with  more  interest,  I  will  take 
the  liberty  of  dropping  a  word  here  to  the  curious 
reader  of  the  year  1933.  He  will  certainly  wish  to 
know  the  site  of  Harrisburg  (seeing  it  is  doomed,  at 
no  distant  period,  to  share  the  fate  of  Springfield)  and 
of  Campbellton. 

Supposing,  then,  that  if  the  great  fire  in  Augusta,  on 
the  3d  of  April,  1829,  did  not  destroy  that  cit?  no- 
thing  will  ;  I  select  this  as  a  permanent  object. 

In  1798,  Campbell-street  was  the  western  ve- ^e  of 
Augusta,  a  limit  to  which  it  had  advanced  but  a  few 
years  before,  from  Jackson-street.  Thence  to  .Spring- 
field  led  a  large  road,  now  built  up  on  either  iide,  and 
forming  a  continuation  of  Broad-street.  1  his  road 
was  cut  across  obliquely  by  a  deep  gully,  t.se  bed  of 
which  was  an  almost  impassable  bog,  whiui  entered 
the  road  about  one  hundred  yards  below  Coliock-street 
on  the  south,  and  left  it  about  thirty  yards  below  CoL 
lock-street  on  the  north  side  of  now  Broad-street.  It 
was  called  Campbell's  Gully,  from  the  name  of  the 
gentleman  through  whose  possessions  and  near  whose 
dwelling  it  wound  its  way  to  the  river.  Following  the 
direction  of  Broad-street  from  Springfield  westward, 
1347  yards,  will  bring  you  to  Harrisburg,  which  had 
nothing  to  boast  of  over  Springfield  but  a  warehouse 
for  the  storage  of  tobacco,  then  the  staple  of  Georgia. 
Continue  the  same  direction  700  yards,  then  face  to 
your  right  hand,  and  follow  your  nose  directly  across 
Savannah  river,  and,  upon  ascending  the  opposite  bank, 
you  will  be  in  the  busiest  part  of  Campbellton  in  1798. 
Between  Harrisburg  and  Springfield,  and  1143  yards 
from  the  latter,  there  runs  a  stream  which  may  be  per 
petual.  At  the  time  just  mentioned,  it  flowed  between 

*  The  Editor  of  the  "  Hickory  Nut." 


THE   GANDER    FILLING.  11 3 

banks  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  high,  and  was  then  call. 
ed,  as  it  still  is,  "Hawk's  Gully."* 

Now  Mr.  Prator,  like  the  most  successful  politician 
of  the  present  day,  was  on  all  sides  in  a  doubtful  con- 
test ;  and,  accordingly,  he  laid  off  his  gander-pulling 
ground  on  the  nearest  suitable  unappropriated  spot  to 
the  centre  point  between  Springfield  and  Harrisburg. 
This  was  between  Harrisburg  and  Hawk's  Gully,  to 
Ihe  south  of  the  road,  and  embraced  part  of  the  road, 
but  within  100  yards  of  Harrisburg. 

When  "  Satlerday  of  ilies  pressents  munth"  rollec 
round,  I  determined  to  go  to  the  gander-pulling. 
When  I  reached  the  spot,  a  considerable  number  of 
persons,  of  different  ages,  sexes,  sizes,  and  complex, 
ions,  had  collected  from  the  rival  towns  and  the  coun 
try  around.  But  few  females  were  there,  however  ; 
and  those  few  were  from  the  lowest  walks  of  life. 

A  circular  path  of  about  forty  yards  diameter  had 
already  been  laid  out ;  over  which,  from  two  posts 
about  ten  feet  apart,  stretched  a  rope,  the  middle  of 
which  was  directly  over  the  path.  The  rope  hung 
loosely,  so  as  to  allow  it,  with  the  weight  of  a  gander 
attached  to  it,  to  vibrate  in  an  arc  of  four  or  five  feet 
span,  and  so  as  to  bring  the  breast  of  the  gander  within 
barely  easy  reach  of  a  man  of  middle  stature  upon  a 
horse  of  common  size. 

A  hat  was  now  handed  to  such  as  wished  to  enter 
the  list ;  and  they  threw  into  it  twenty-five  cents  each  ; 
this  sum  was  the  victor's  prize. 

The  devoted  gander  was  now  produced  ;  and  Mr. 
Prator,  having  first  tied  his  feet  together  with  a  strong 
cord,  proceeded  to  the  neck-greasing.  Abhorrent  as  it 
may  be  to  all  who  respect  the  tenderer  relations  of 
life,  Mrs.  Prator  had  actually  prepared  a  gourd  of  goose- 
grease  for  this  very  purpose.  For  myself,  when  I  saw 
Ned  dip  his  hands  into  the  grease,  and  commence  stro 
king  down  the  feathers  from  breast  to  head,  my  thoughts 

*  It  took  its  name  from  an  old  man  by  the  narr.e  of  Hawk,  who 
lived  in  a  log  hut  on  a  small  knoll  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  gully 
and  about  100  yards  south  of  the  Harrisburg  road. 

K2 


Il4  THE    GANDER    PULL1NU. 

took  a  melancholy  turn.  They  dwelt  in  sadness  upon 
the  many  conjugal  felicities  which  had  probably  been 
shared  between  the  greasess  and  the  greasee.  I  could 
see  him  as  he  stood  by  her  side,  through  many  a  chilly 
day  and  cheerless  night,  when  she  was  warming  intc 
Jife  the  offspring  of  their  mutual  loves,  and  repelled, 
with  chivalrous  spirit,  every  invasion  of  the  consecra. 
led  spot  which  she  had  selected  for  her  incubation.  I 
could  see  him  moving  with  patriarchal  dignity  by  the 
oide  of  his  loved  one,  at  the  head  of  a  smiling,  prattling 
group,  the  rich  reward  of  their  mutual  care,  to  the  lux- 
uries  of  the  meadow  or  to  the  recreations  of  the  pool. 
And  now,  alas  !  an  extract  from  the  smoking  sacrifice 
of  his  bosom  friend  was  desecrated  to  the  unholy  pur. 
pose  of  making  his  neck  "  a  fit  object"  for  Cruelty  to 
reach  "  her  quick,  unerring  fingers  at."  Ye  friends 
of  the  sacred  tie !  judge  what  were  my  feelings  when, 
in  the  midst  of  these  reflections,  the  voice  of  James 
Prator  thundered  on  mine  ear,  "  Darn  his  old  dodging 
soul ;  brother  Ned  !  grease  his  neek  till  a  fly  can't 
light  on  it !" 

Ned,  having  fulfilled  his  brother  Jim's  request  as 
well  as  he  could,  attached  the  victim  of  his  cruelty  to 
the  rope,  directly  over  the  path.  On  each  side  of  the 
gander  was  stationed  a  man,  whose  office  it  was  to  lash 
forward  any  horse  which  might  linger  there  for  a  mo. 
ment ;  for,  by  the  rules  of  the  ring,  all  pulling  was  to 
be  done  at  a  brisk  canter. 

The  word  was  now  given  for  the  competitors  to 
mount  and  take  their  places  on  the  ring.  Eight  ap 
peared  :  Tall  Zubley  Zin,  mounted  upon  Sally  Spitfire  ; 
Arch  Odum,  mounted  on  Bull  and  Ingons  (onions) ; 
Nathan  Perdew,  on  Hellcat ;  James  Dickson,  on  Nig. 
ger  ;  David  Williams,  on  Gridiron  ;  Fat  John  Fulger, 
on  Slouch ;  Gorham  Bostwick,  on  Gimlet ;  and  Tur 
ner  Hammond,  on  'Possum. 

"  Come,  gentlemen"  said  Commandant  Prator,  " fall 
in.  All  of  you  git  behind  one  another,  sort  o'  in  a 
row." 

All  came  into  the  track  very  kindly  but  Sally  Spit- 


THE    GANDER    PULLING.  115 

fi  ie  and  Gridiron.  The  former,  as  soon  as  she  saw 
a  general  movement  of  horses,  took  it  for  granted  there 
was  mischief  brewing,  and,  because  she  could  not  tell 
where  it  lay,  she  concluded  it  lay  everywhere,  and 
therefore  took  fright  at  everything. 

Gridiron  was  a  grave  horse  ;  but  a  suspicious  eye 
which  he  cast  to  the  right  and  left,  wherever  he  moved, 
showed  that  "  he  was  wide  awake,"  and  that  "  nobody 
better  not  go  fooling  with  him,"  as  his  owner  some- 
times  used  to  say.  He  took  a  sober  but  rather  intense 
view  of  things  ;  insomuch  that,  in  his  contemplations, 
he  passed  over  the  track  three  times  before  he  could  be 
prevailed  upon  to  stop  in  it.  He  stopped  at  last,  how. 
ever  ;  and  when  he  was  made  to  understand  that  this 
was  all  that  was  required  of  him  for  the  present,  he 
surrendered  his  suspicions  at  once,  with  a  countenance 
which  seemed  plainly  to  say,  "  Oh,  if  this  is  all  you 
want,  I've  no  objection  to  it." 

It  was  long  before  Miss  Spitfire  could  be  prevailed 
upon  to  do  the  like. 

"  Get  another  horse,  Zube,"  said  one  ;  "  Sal  will 
never  do  for  a  gander  pullin." 

"  I  won't,"  said  Zube.  "  If  she  won't  do,  I'll  make 
her  do.  I  want  a  nag  that  goes  off  with  a  spring  ;  so 
that,  when  I  get  a  hold,  she'll  cut  the  neck  in  two  like  a 
steel-trap." 

At  length  Sally  was  rather  flung  than  coaxed  into 
the  track,  directly  ahead  of  Gridiron. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  master  of  the  ceremo 
nies,  "  no  man's  to  make  a  grab  till  all's  been  once 
round  ;  and  when  the  first  man  are  got  round,  then  the 
whole  twist  and  tucking  of  you  grab  away  as  you  come 
under  ("  Look  here,  Jim  Fulger !  you  better  not  stand 
too  close  to  that  gander,  I  tell  you"),  one  after  another. 
Now  blaze  away !"  (the  command  for  an  onset  of  every 
kind  with  people  of  this  order). 

Off  they  went,  Miss  Sally  delighted ;  for  she  now 
thought  the  whole  parade  would  end  in  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  her  favourite  amusement,  a  race.  But 
Gridiron's  visage  pronounced  this  the  most  nonsensi' 


116  THE    GANDER    PITHING. 

cal  business  that  ever  a  horse  of  sense  was  engaged 
in  since  the  world  began. 

For  the  first  three  rounds  Z  ably  was  wholly  occu 
pied  in  restraining  Sally  to  her  place  ;  but  he  lost  no 
thing  by  this,  for  the  gander  ha j  escaped  unhurt.  On 
completing  his  third  round,  Zube  reached  forth  his  long 
arm,  grabbed  the  gander  by  the  rieek  with  a  firmness 
which  seemed  likely  to  defy  goose-grease,  and,  at  the 
•same  instant,  he  involuntarily  gave  Sally  a  sudden 
check.  She  raised  her  head,  which  before  had  been 
kept  nearly  touching  her  leader's  hocks,  and  for  the 
first  time  saw  the  gander  in  the  act  of  descending  upon 
her  ;  at  the  same  moment  she  received  two  pealing  lash 
es  from  the  whippers.  The  way  she  now  broke  for 
Springfield  "  is  nothing  to  nobody."  As  Zube  dashed 
down  the  road,  the  whole  Circus  raised  a  whoop  after 
mm.  This  started  about  twenty  dogs,  hounds,  curs, 
and  pointers,  in  full  chase  of  him  (for  no  one  moved 
without  his  dog  in  those  days).  The  dogs  alarmed 
some  belled  cattle,  which  were  grazing  on  Zube's  path, 
just  as  he  reached  them  ;  these  joined  him,  with  tails 
up  and  a  tremendous  rattling.  Just  beyond  these  went 
three  tobacco. rollers,  at  distances  of  fifty  and  a  hun 
dred  yards  apart ;  each  of  whom  gave  Zube  a  terrific 
whoop,  scream,  or  yell  as  he  passed. 

He  went  in  and  out  of  Hawk's  Gully  like  a  trapball, 
and  was  in  Springfield  "in  less  than  no  time."  Here 
he  was  encouraged  onward  by  a  new  recruit  of  dogs  ; 
but  thev  (rave  up  the  chase  as  hopeless  before  they 
cleared  the  village.  Just  beyond  Springfield,  what 
should  Sally  encounter  but  a  flock  of  geese  !  the  tribe 
to  whicn  she  owed  all  her  misfortunes.  She  stopped 
suddenly,  and  Zubo  went  over  her  head  with  the  las! 
acquired  velocity.  He  was  up  in  a  moment,  and  thy 
activity  with  which  he  pursued  Sally  satisfied  every 
spectator  that  he  wcs  unhurt. 

Gridiron,  who  had  "witnessed  Miss  Sally's  treatment 
with  astonishment  and  indignation,  resolved  not  to  pass 
between  the  posts  until  the  whole  matter  should  be 
explained  to  his  satisfaction.  He  therefore  stopped 


VHE   GANDER   P"LLINfi  117 

shell,  ana,  by  very  intelligible  looks,  demanded  of  the 
whippers  whetner,  if  he  passed  between  them,  he  was 
to  be  treated  as  Miss  Spitfire  had  been  ?  The  whip 
pers  gave  him  no  satisfaction,  and  his  rider  signified, 
by  reiterated  thumps  of  the  heel,  that  he  should  go 
through  whether  he  would  or  not.  Of  these,  however, 
Gridiron  seemed  to  know  nothing.  In  the  midst  of 
the  conference,  Gridiron's  eye  lit  upon  the  oscillating 
gander,  and  every  moment's  survey  of  it  begat  in  him 
a  growing  interest,  as  his  slowly  rising  head,  suppress. 
ed  breath,  and  projected  ears  plainly  evinced.  After 
a  short  examination,  he  heaved  a  sigh,  and  looked  be 
hind  him  to  see  if  the  way  was  clear.  It  was  plain 
that  his  mind  was  now  made  up ;  but,  to  satisfy  the 
world  that  he  would  do  nothing  rashly,  he  took  another 
view,  and  then  wheeled  and  went  for  Harrisbug  as  if 
he  had  set  in  for  a  year's  running.  Nobody  whooped 
at  Gridiron,  for  all  saw  that  his  running  was  purely 
the  result  of  philosophic  deduction.  The  reader  will 
not  suppose  all  this  consumed  half  the  time  which  has 
been  consumed  in  telling  it,  though  it  might  have  been 
so  without  interrupting  the  amusement ;  for  Miss  Spit 
fire's  flight  had  completely  suspended  it  for  a  time. 

The  remaining  competitors  now  went  on  with  the 
sport.  A  few  rounds  showed  plainly  that  Odum  or 
Bostwick  would  be  the  victor ;  but  which,  no  one  could 
tell.  Whenever  eithe*  of  them  came  round,  the  gan 
der's  neck  was  sure  of  a  severe  wrench.  Many  a 
half  pint  of  Jamaica  was  staked  upon  them,  besides 
other  things.  The  poor  gander  withstood  many  a 
strong  pull  before  his  wailings  ceased.  At  length, 
however,  they  were  hushed  by  Odum.  Then  came 
Bostwick,  and  broke  the  neck.  The  next  grasp  of 
Odum,  it  was  thought,  would  bear  away  the  head  ;  but 
it  did  not.  Then  Bostwick  was  sure  of  it ;  but  he 
missed  it.  Now  Odum  must  surely  have  it.  All  is 
interest  and  animation  ;  the  horses  sweep  round  with 
redoubled  speed  ;  every  eye  is  upon  Odum  ;  his  back 
ers  smiling,  Bostwick's  trembling.  To  the  rope  he 
comes  ;  lifts  his  hand  ;  when,  lo  !  Fat  John  Fulger  had 


118  THE    GANDER    PULLING. 

borne  it  away  the  second  before.  All  were  astonished? 
all  disappointed,  and  some  were  vexed  a  little  ;  for  it 
was  now  clear  that.  "  if  it  hadn't  o'  been  for  his  great, 
fat,  greasy  paw,"  to  use  their  own  language,  "  Odum 
would  have  gained  the  victory."  Others  cursed  "thai 
long-legged  Zube  Zin,  who  was  so  high  he  didn't  know 
when  his  feet  were  cold,  for  bringing  such  a  nag  a& 
Sal  Spitfire  to  a  gander  pullen  ;  for  if  he'd  o'  been  i» 
his  place,  it  would  o'  flung  Bostwick  right  where  that 
gourd  o'  hog's  lard  (Fulger)  was." 

Fulger's  conduct  was  little  calculated  to  reconcile 
them  to  their  disappointment. 

"  Come  here,  Neddy  Prater,"  said  he,  with  a  tri 
umphant  smile  ;  "  let  your  Uncle  Johnny  put  his  potato 
stealer  (hand)  into  that  hat,  and  tickle  the  chins  o) 
them  are  shiners  a  little  !  Oh  you  little  shining  sons 
o'  bitches !  walk  into  your  Mas'  Johnny's  pocket,  and 
jingle  so  as  Arch  Odum  and  Gory  Bostwick  may  hear 
you !  You  hear  'em,  Gory  1  Boys,  don't  pull  with 
men  any  more.  I've  jist  got  my  hand  in  ;  I  wish  I  had 
a  pond  full  o'  ganders  here  now,  jist  to  show  how  ] 
could  make  their  heads  fly.  Bet  all  I've  won,  you 
may  hang  three  upon  that  rope,  and  I'll  set  Slouch  at 
full  speed,  and  take  off  the  heads  of  all  three  the  first 
grab ;  two  with  my  hands  and  one  with  rny  teeth." 

Thus  he  went  on,  but  really  there  was  no  boasting 
in  all  this  ;  it  was  all  fun  ;  for  John  knew,  and  all  were 
convinced  that  he  knew,  that  his  success  was  entirely 
the  result  of  accident.  John  was  really  "  a  good-na 
tured  fellow,"  and  his  cavorting  had  an  effect  directly 
opposite  to  that  which  the  reader  would  suppose  it  had  ; 
it  reconciled  all  to  their  disappointment  save  one.  1 
except  little  Billy  Mixen,  of  Spirit  Creek ;  who  had 
staked  the  net  proceeds  of  six  quarts  of  huckleberries* 
upon  Odum,  which  he  had  been  long  keeping  for  a  safe 
bet.  He  could  not  be  reconciled  until  he  fretted  him- 
self  into  a  pretty  little  piney- woods  fight,  in  which  he 
got  whipped ;  and  then  he  went  home  perfectly  satis 

*  I  give  them  their  Georgia  name.  I  should  hardly  be  understood 
if  I  called  Ihem  whorlltberrits. 


THE  BALL. 


fied.  Fulger  spent  all  his  winnings  with  Prator  in 
treats  to  the  company  ;  made  most  of  them  drunk. 
and  thereby  produced  four  Georgia  rotations  ;*  after 
which  all  parted  good  friends. 

HALL. 


THE  BALL. 

BEING  on  a  visit  to  the  city  of about  ten 

years  ago,  my  old  friend,  Jack  De  Bathle,  gave  me  an 
invitation  to  a  ball,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  mana 
gers.  Jack  had  been  the  companion  of  my  childhood, 
my  boyhood,  and  my  early  manhood;  and  through 
many  a  merry  dance  had  we  hopped,  and  laughed,  and 
tumbled  down  together  in  the  morning  of  life.  Dan 
cing  was  really,  in  those  days,  a  merry-making  busi 
ness.  Except  the  minuet,  which  was  introduced  only 
to  teach  us  the  graces,  and  the  Congo,  which  was  only 
to  chase  away  the  solemnities  of  the  minuet,  it  was  all 
a  jovial,  heart-stirring,  foot-stirring  amusement.  We 
had  none  of  your  mathematical  cotillons ;  none  of 
your  immodest  waltzes ;  none  of  your  detestable,  dis 
gusting  gallopades.  The  waltz  would  have  crimsoned 
the  cheek  of  every  young  lady  who  attended  a  ball  in 
my  day ;  and,  had  the  gallopade  been  commenced  in 
the  ballroom,  it  would  have  been  ended  in  the  street. 
I  am  happy  to  say  that  the  waltz  has  met  with  but  very 
little  encouragement  in  Georgia  as  yet ;  the  gallopade 
with  none.  Ye  fair  of  my  native  land  !  ye  daughters 
of  a  modest  race  !  blush  them  away  from  the  soil, 
which  your  mothers  honoured  by  their  example,  and 
consecrated  with  their  ashes.  Born  to  woman's  lofti- 

*  I  borrowed  this  term  from  Jim  Inman  at  the  time.  "  Why, 
*'im,"  said  I  to  him,  just  as  he  rose  from  a  fight,  "  what  have  you 
neen  doing?"  "  Oh,"  said  he,  "nothing  but  taking  a  little  rotation 
with  Bob  M'Manue." 


120  THE    BALL. 

est  destinies,  it  ill  becomes  you  to  stoop  from  your 
high  estate  to  ape  the  indecencies  of  Europe's  slaves. 
It  is  yours  to  command,  not  to  obey.  Let  vice  ap. 
proach  you  in  what  form  she  may — as  the  handmaid 
of  wit  and  talents,  the  mistress  of  courts,  or  the  queen 
of  fashion — fail  not  to  meet  her  with  the  frown  of  in 
dignant  virtue  and  the.  flush  of  offended  modesty. 
There  is  a  majesty  in  these  which  has  ever  command, 
ed  her  homage.  There  is  a  loveliness  in  these  which 
will  ever  command  the  admiration  of  the  world.  The 
interest  which  I  feel  in  the  character  of  the  fair  daugh 
ters  of  America  is  my  apology  for  this  sober  digres 
sion. 

Though  De  Bathle  is  but  two  months  younger  than 
I  am,  he  still  dances  occasionally  ;  and  to  this  circum 
stance  in  part,  but  more  particularly  to  the  circum 
stance  of  his  being  a  married  man,  is  to  be  ascribed 
his  appointment  of  manager ;  the  custom  now  being 
to  have  one  third  or  one  half  the  managers  married 
men.  This  would  be  a  great  improvement  on  the  man 
agement  of  balls  in  olden  time,  could  the  married  men 
only  manage  to  keep  out  of  the  cardroom.  Would 
they  take  the  direction  of  the  amusement  into  their 
hands,  their  junior  colleagues  would  then  have  an  op 
portunity  of  sharing  the  pleasures  of  the  evening,  a 
privilege  which  they  seldom  enjoy  as  things  are  now 
conducted.  However,  married  men  are  not  appoint 
ed  with  the  expectation  that  they  will  perform  th«  du 
ties  of  the  office  ;  but  to  quiet  the  scruples  of  some  half 
dozen  or  more  "  charming  creatures"  who,  though  they 
never  fail  to  attend  a  ball,  will  not  condescend  to  do  so 
until  they  are  perfectly  satisfied  it  is  to  be  conducted 
with  the  utmost  gravity,  dignity,  decorum,  and  proprie 
ty.  For  these  assurances  they  look  first  to  "  the  face 
of  the  paper"  (the  ball-ticket) ;  and  if  they  do  not  find 
on  it  a  goodly  number  of  responsible  names  (such  as, 
by  reasonable  presumption,  are  well  broke  to  petticoat 
government),  they  protest  against  it ;  tell  a  hundred 
amiable  little  fibs  to  conceal  the  cause  of  their  opposi 
tion  ;  tortufe  two  or  three  beaux  half  to  death  with 


THE    BALL.  121 

suspense,  and  finally  conclude  to  go  "  jusi  to  keep  from 
giving  offence."  But  if  the  endorsers  be  "  potent,  grave, 
and  reverend  seniors,"  schooled  as  aforesaid,  why,  then 
one  difficulty  is  at  least  removed  ;  for  though  it  is  well 
known  that  these  are  "  endorsers  without  recourse  in 
the  first  instance,"  it  is  equally  well  known  that  they 
may  be  ultimately  made  liable  ;  for  if  the  juniors  fail 
to  fulfil  their  engagements,  a  lady  has  nothing  to  do 
but  to  walk  into  the  cardroom,  take  a  senior  by  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  lead  him  into  the  ballroom,  present 
her  ticket  with  his  name  upon  it  in  the  presence  of  the 
witnesses  there  assembled,  and  she  is  sure  of  ample 
satisfaction. 

When  De  Bathle  and  I  reached  the  ballroom,  a  large 
number  of  gentlemen  had  already  assembled.  They 
all  seemed  cheerful  and  happy.  Some  walked  in  coup 
les  up  and  down  the  ballroom,  and  talked  with  great 
volubility  ;  but  neither  of  them  understood  a  word  that 
himself  or  his  companion  said. 

"  Ah,  sir,  how  do  you  know  that  ?" 

Because  the  speakers  showed  plainly  by  their  looks 
and  actions  that  their  thoughts  were  running  upon  their 
ov.'n  personal  appearance,  and  upon  the  figure  they 
would  cut  before  the  ladies  when  they  should  arrive, 
and  not  upon  the  subject  of  the  discourse.  And,  fur 
thermore,  their  conversation  was  like  that  of  one  talk. 
ing  in  his  sleep  ;  without  order,  sense,  or  connexion. 
The  hearer  always  made  the  speaker  repeat  in  senten 
ces  and  half  sentences ;  often  interrupting  him  with 
"  what  ?"  before  he  had  proceeded  three  words  in  a 
remark  ;  and  then  laughed  affectedly,  as  though  he 
saw  in  the  senseless,  unfinished  sentence  a  most  excel 
lent  joke.  Then  would  come  his  reply,  which  could 
not  be  forced  into  connexion  with  a  word  that  he  had 
heard  ;  and  in  the  course  of  which  he  was  treated  with 
precisely  the  civility  which  he  had  received.  And  yet 
they  kept  up  the  conversation  with  lively  interest  aa 
long  as  I  listened  to  them. 

Others  employed  themselves  in  commenting  good 
L 


122  THE    BALL. 

humouredly  upon  each  other's    dresses    and  figure 
while  some  took  steps — awkwardly. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  three  junior  managers  me* 
and  agreed  upon  the  parts  which  they  were  to  perform. 
Herein  I  thought  they  were  unfortunate.  To  Mr.  Flirt 
a  bustling,  fidgety,  restless  little  man,  about  five  feet 
cwo  and  a  half  inches  high,  was  assigned  the  compara- 
lively  easy  task  of  making  out  and  distributing  the  num. 
bers.  Mr.  Crouch,  a  good-humoured,  sensible,  but  rath. 
er  unpolished  gentleman,  undertook  to  attend  the  car. 
riages,  and  to  transport  their  precious  treasures  to  the 
ballroom,  where  Mr.  Dupree  was  to  receive  them,  and 
see  to  their  safe  keeping  until  the  dancing  commenced. 
The  parts  of  the  married  men,  up  to  the  opening  of  the 
ball,  was  settled  by  common  law.  They  were  to  keep 
a  sharp  look-out ;  lend  a  helping  hand  in  case  of  emer, 
gency  ;  drink  plenty  of  wine  ;  see  that  other  gentlemen, 
particularly  strangers,  did  the  same  ;  and,  finally,  to 
give  any  gentleman  who  might  have  come  to  the  ball 
encumbered  with  a  little  loose  change,  an  opportunity 
of  relieving  himself. 

Things  were  thus  arranged,  Crouch  standing  with  a 
group  of  gentlemen,  of  which  I  was  one,  in  the  entry 
leading  to  the  ballroom,  when  Mr.  Flirt  broke  upon 
us  as  if  the  whole  town  was  on  fire,  and  all  the  ******* 
had  risen,  with,  "  Good  God,  Crouch !  there's  Mrs. 
Mushy's  carriage  at  the  door,  full  of  ladies,  and  not  a 
manager  there  to  receive  them !  I'll  swear  it  is  too 
bad  !" 

"  Horrible  !"  said  Crouch  ;  and  away  he  went. 

But  Mrs.  Mushy,  with  Miss  Feedle  and  Deedle,  had 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  unattended,  before  Crouch, 
or  even  Flirt,  who  was  considerable  in  advance  of  him, 
met  them.  Mrs.  Mushy,  who  was  a  lady  of  very  full 
habit,  looked  huffishly  as  Flirt  took  her  hand,  and  Miss 
Feedle  and  Miss  Deedle  blushed  sarcastically  ;  Flirt 
made  a  hundred  apologies,  and  Crouch  looked  first  at 
Mrs.  Mushy,  then  at  Flirt,  and  tittered.  "  What  a 
lovely  figure  Mrs.  Mushy  is  !"  said  he,  as  he  turned  off 
from  delivering  his  charge  to  Dupree. 


THE    BALL.  128 

''Oh,  Mr.  Crouch,"  said  Flirt,  "  if  you  begin  making 
your  fun  of  the  ladies  a'ready,  we'd  better  break  up 
the  ball  at  once.  By  Heaven,  it's  a  shame." 

"  Upon  my  honour,  Mr.  Flirt,"  said  Crouch,  "  I  think 
she's  beautiful.  I  always  liked  a  light  and  airy  figure, 
particularly  for  a  ballroom." 

By  this  time  Dupree  had  joinei  us.  Flirt  left  us, 
obviously  in  a  pet ;  but  we  hardly  missed  him,  before 
back  he  rushed  from  the  ballroom,  exclaiming,  "  Why, 
gracious  Heavens,  Dupree  !  there  are  those  three  ladies 
sitting  in  the  ballroom,  and  not  a  gentleman  in  the 
room  to  entertain  them.  Do  go  and  introduce  some  of 
the  gentlemen  to  them,  if  you  please." 

"  Flugens  !"  said  Dupree,  "  what  an  oversight !? 
and  off  he  went  for  entertainers.  After  several  inef. 
fectual  attempts,  he  at  length  prevailed  on  Mr.  Noo- 
zle  and  Mr.  Boozle  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the 
adies. 

Mr.  N.  seated  himself  to  the  right  of  Miss  F.,  and 
Mr.  B.  to  the  left  of  Miss  D. ;  Mrs.  M.  occupying  a 
seat  between  the  girls,  and  looking,  for  all  the  world, 
as  if  she  thought,  "  Well,  this  is  the  last  ball  I'll  ever 
attend,  unless  it's  a  little  better  managed."  But  the 
young  ladies  looked  like  a  May  morning  as  soon  as 
the  gentlemen  approached.  After  a  pause  of  two  min 
utes, 

"  It's  a  very  pleasant  evening,"  said  Mr.  Noozle  to 
Miss  Feedle. 

"  Delightful^  *  said  Miss  Feedle  to  Mr.  Noozle. 

"  It's  a  delightful  evening,"  said  Miss  Deedle  to  Mr. 
Boozle. 

"  Very  pleasant,"  said  Mr.  Boozle  to  Miss  Deedle. 

"  I  thought  there  were  some  married  managers  of 
the  ball,"  said  Mrs.  Mushy,  emphatically.  Here  en. 
sued  a  long  pause. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  dancing  ?"  said  Mr.  Noozle. 

"  Ah  !  what's  that  you  say,  Noozle  ?"  said  Boozle  ; 
•'  you  are  not  fond  of  dancing !  Come,  come,  that'll 
never  do.  You  tip  the  pigeon-wing  too  well  for  that." 

"You  quite  misapprehend  me,  sir,"  returned  Mr. 


124  Tilt    BALL. 

Noodle.  "  Mine  vvas  not  a  declaration  touching  in  th<s 
remotest  degree  my  personal  predilections  or  antipa 
thies,  but  a  simple  interrogatory  to  Miss  Feedle.  No, 
sir ;  though  I  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  proficiency  of 
Noverrc  in  the  saltant  art,  I  am,  nevertheless,  extrava 
gantly  fond  of  dancing ;  too  much  so,  I  fear,  for  one 
who  has  but  just  commenced  the  veginli  lucubrationes 
annnrum,  as  that  inimitable  and  fascinating  expositor 
of  the  elements  of  British  jurisprudence,  Sir  William 
Blackstone,  observes.  To  reach  these  high  attain 
ments  in  forensic — " 

Here  the  young  gentlemen  were  forced  to  resign 
their  seats  to  a  number  of  ladies  who  now  entered  the 
ballroom. 

"  What  an  intelligent  young  gentleman  !"  said  Miss 
Feedle.  "  I  declare  I  must  set  my  cap  for  him." 

"  I  think  the  other  much  the  most  interesting  of  the 
two,"  said  Miss  Deedle.  "  He's  too  affected,  and  too 
fond  of  showing  off  his  learning.  What  did  he  call 
that  'inimitable  expositor?'  Jinny  Crashionis." 

The  seats  were  soon  filled  with  ladies  ;  almost  all  of 
whom  (except  Mrs.  Mushy)  entered  the  room  in  the 
game  style,  which  seemed  to  have  been  strictly  copied 
from  the  movement  of  the  kildee.  They  took  their 
seats  with  precisely  the  motion  with  which  the  school 
girls  in  my  younger  days  used  to  make  "  cheeses,'1  as 
they  called  them,  with  their  frocks. 

The  musicians  were  all  blacks,  but  neatly  dressed. 
The  band  consisted  of  three  performers  on  the  violin, 
one  on  the  clarinet,  one  on  the  tambourine,  and  one  on 
the  triangle. 

The  ladies  ceased  coming,  and  nothing  seemed  now 
wanting  to  begin  the  amusement  but  the  distribution  of 
the  numbers  ;  but  Mr.  Flirt  was  running  up  and  down 
stairs  every  minute  after — no  one  knew  what ;  and 
with  great  anxiety — no  one  knew  why.  He  would  en 
ter  the  room,  look  the  ladies  all  over,  then  down  he 
would  go  ;  then  return  and  go  through  the  same  evolu. 
tions.  The  band  struck  up  a  spirit-stirring  tune,  in 
which  the  tambourine  player  distinguished  himself. 


THE    BALL.  120 

For  d;gnifieu  complaisancy  of  countenance,  under  his 
own  music,  he  rivalled  Mr.  Jenkins  ;  and  he  performed 
the  rattlesnake  note  with  his  middle  finger  in  a  style 
which  threw  Miss  Crump  entirely  in  the  shade.  The 
band  ceased,  and  the  inquiry  became  general,  "  Why 
doesn't  the  drawing  begin  ?"  but  Mr.  Flirt  still  kept  up 
his  anxious  movements. 

"  In  the  name  of  sense,  Flirt,"  said  Crouch,  impa- 
liently,  as  the  little  man  was  taking  a  third  survey  of 
the  ladies,  "  what  are  you  bobbing  up  and  down  stairs 
for  ?  Why  don't  you  distribute  the  tickets  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Flirt,  "  it's  early  yet.  Let's  wait  foi 
Miss  Gilt  and  Miss  Rino.  1  know  they're  coming, 
for  Mr.  Posey  and  Mr.  Tulip  told  me  they  saw  them 
dressed,  and  their  carriages  at  the  door,  an  hour  ago." 

"  Blast  Miss  Gilt  and  Miss  Rino  !"  returned  Crouch. 
"  Is  the  whole  company  to  be  kept  waiting  for  them  1 
Now,  sir,  if  the  tickets  are  not  handed  round  in  three 
minutes,  I'll  announce  to  the  company  that  Mr.  Flirt 
will  permit  no  dancing  until  Miss  Gilt  and  Miss  Rino 
shall  think  proper  to  honour  us  with  their  presence." 

"  Oh,  zounds  !"  said  Flirt,  "  I'm  not  waiting  for  them. 
I  thought  it  was  too  early  to  begin  the  drawing.  It's 
quite  unfashionable  in  New-York  to  commence  draw- 
ing  before  9  o'clock."  (Miss  R.'s  father  was  computed 
at  a  cool  hundred  and  fifty,  and  Miss  G.'s  at  a  round 
hundred  thousand.) 

In  a  few  minutes  the  tickets  were  distributed,  and 
Mr.  Flirt  proceeded  to  call,  " No.  1 — First  Cotillon'1 
with  most  imposing  majesty.  Then  numbers  2,  3, 
and  4  of  the  same  ;  then  No.  1,  of  the  second,  and 
so  on. 

Five  sets  of  cotillons  could  occupy  the  floor  at  a 
time  ;  and  Flirt  had  just  called  No.  2  of  the  fifth, 
when  Miss  Rino  entered  the  room,  and  immediately 
afterward  Miss  Gilt.  Flirt  had  put  two  supernume 
rary  tickets  in  the  hat,  in  anticipation  of  their  coming  ; 
and,  forgetting  everything  else,  he  suspended  the  call 
ing,  and  rushed  to  deliver  them,  as  soon  as  the  ladies 
made  their  appearance. 

L2 


126  THE  BALL. 

He  went  to  Miss  Rino  first,  as  the  entered  first 
but  she  was  obviously  piqued  at  seeing  the  sets  on  the 
floor  before  her  arrival.  She  refused  to  take  a  num 
ber  ;  declaring  (very  sweetly)  that  she  left  home  with 
no  idea  of  dancing.  Flirt  insisted,  earnestly  and  pret. 
tily,  upon  her  taking  a  number ;  but  she  hesitated 
looked  in  the  hat,  then  looked  at  Flirt  bewitchingly, 
and  declared  she  did  not  wish  to  dance. 

In  the  mean  time  Miss  Gilt  began  to  feel  herself 
slighted,  and  she  said,  in  a  pretty  audible  tone,  "  As 
for  her  part,  she  would  like  very  well  to  draw  a  num 
ber  if  she  could  be  permitted  to  do  so."  Several  gen 
tlemen  who  had  gathered  around  her  hastened  to  Flirt 
to  remind  him  of  the  indignity  which  he  was  offering 
to  Miss  Gilt ;  but,  before  they  reached  him,  Miss  Rino 
drew  No.  3  of  the  fifth  cotillon  from  the  hat. 

Unfortunately,  Crouch's  patience  had  worn  out  just 
before  Miss  R.  made  up  her  mind  to  take  a  ticket ;  and 
he  took  the  office  which  Flirt  had  abdicated.  He  call, 
ed  No.  3  twice,  but  the  call  was  not  responded  to. 
He  then  called  No.  4,  when  Miss  Jones  appeared  and 
took  her  place.  He  next  called  No.  1  of  the  sixth 
set,  when  a  lady  appeared,  which  completed  the  cotil 
lon.  The  last  lady  had  but  just  taken  her  place,  when 
Miss  Rino,  led  on  by  Mr.  Noozle,  advanced,  and  an 
nounced  that  hers  was  No.  3  of  the  fifth  set.  Miss 
Jones  was  instinctively  retiring  from  the  august  pres 
ence  of  Miss  Rino,  when  she  was  stopped  by  Crouch, 
with,  "  Keep  your  place,  Miss  Jones  ;  I  think  you  are 
entitled  to  it." 

"  Isn't  this  No.  3  of  the  fifth  cotillon  ?"  said  Miss 
Rino,  holding  out  her  ticket  to  Mr.  Crouch. 

"  Yes,  miss,"  said  Crouch,  "  but  I  think  it  has  for 
feited  its  place.  Indeed.  I  do  not  think  it  was  even 
drawn  when  Miss  Jones  took  her  place." 

This  drew  from  Miss  Rino  the  expression  of  ccun- 
tenance  which  immediately  precedes  a  sneeze. 

"  Upon  every  principle  of  equity  and  justice,"  said 
Mr.  Boozle.  "  Miss  Rino  is  entitled  to — " 

"  Music  !"  said  Crouch. 


THE  BALL.  127 

"Hands  round!"  said  the  fiddler;  and  the  whole 
band  struck  into  something  like  "  The  Dead  March." 

"  This  matter  shall  not  end  here,"  said  Noozle,  as 
he  led  Miss  Rino  back  to  her  seat. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Noozle,"  returned  Miss  Rino,  "  don't 
think  anything  of  it.  I  declare  I  had  not  the  least 
wish  in  the  world  to  dance.  Surely  you  would  not 
object  to  anything  the  polite  and  accomplished  Mr. 
Crouch  would  do  !" 

Noozle  walked  the  floor  in  portentous  abstraction, 
wiped  his  face  with  terrific  emphasis,  and  knocked  his 
hair  back  with  the  slap  belligerant. 

The  ladies  who  were  not  dancing  became  alarmed 
and  sedate  (Miss  Gilt  excepted) ;  the  gentlemen  col- 
lected  in  groups,  and  carried  on  an  animated  conver 
sation.  As  all  but  myself,  who  could  give  a  correct 
version  of  the  affair,  were  engaged  in  the  dance,  the 
Noozle  party  had  gained  over  to  their  side  most  of 
the  company  present  before  the  dance  ended.  After 
various  inquiries,  rumours,  and  corrections,  the  com 
pany  generally  settled  down  upon  the  following  state. 
nient,  as  confirmed  by  the  joint  testimony  of  Rino. 
Flirt,  and  Noozle. 

"  Crouch  had  an  old  spite  against  Miss  Rino  for  no 
thing  at  all ;  began  cursing  and  abusing  her  because 
she  was  not  the  first  lady  in  the  room ;  refused  to  wait 
two  minutes  for  her  arrival ;  as  soon  as  he  saw  her 
enter  the  ballroom,  ursurped  Mr.  Flirt's  appointment, 
and  commenced  calling  the  numbers  on  purpose  to 
cut  her  out.  She,  seeing  his  object,  snatched  up  a 
number  and  rushed  to  her  place ;  but  it  was  occupied 
by  Miss  Jones ;  who,  seeing  the  superiority  of  her 
claims,  offered  to  give  way,  and  was  actually  reti- 
ring,  when  Crouch  seized  her  by  the  arm,  jerked  her 
back,  and  said,  '  Keep  your  place,  miss  !  You're  en- 
'itled  to  it,  if  Miss  Rino  has  got  the  number ;  and  you 
thall  have  it.'  And  when  Mr.  Noozle  was  pleading 
with  him  just  to  look  at  Miss  Rino's  ticket,  he  just 
turned  upon  his  heel  and  called  for  the  music."  This 
was  all  reported  to  Crouch,  as  confirmed  by  the  trio 


128  THE  BALL. 

before  mentioned.  He  pronounced  it  all  an  infamous 
he,  from  beginning  to  end,  and  was  with  difficulty  re 
strained  from  going  immediately  after  Flirt,  to  pick 
him  up,  as  he  said,  and  wear  him  out  upon  Noozle. 

As  soon  as  the  first  cotillon  ended,  tht;  Crouch  party 
began  to  gain  ground ;  but  not  without  warm  worda 
between  several  gentlemen,  and  a  general  depression 
of  spirits  through  the  company. 

The  dancing  of  the  ladies  was,  with  few  exceptions, 
much  after  the  same  fashion.,  I  found  not  the  least 
difficulty  in  resolving  it  into  the  three  motions  of  a 
turkey-cock  strutting,  a  sparrow-hawk  lighting,  and  a 
duck  walking.  Let  the  reader  suppose  a  lady  begin 
ning  a  strut  at  her  own  place,  and  ending  it  (precisely 
as  does  the  turkey-cock)  three  feet  nearer  the  gentle' 
man  opposite  her ;  then  giving  three  sparrow-hawk 
bobs,  and  then  waddling  back  to  her  place'  like  a  duck  , 
and  he  will  have  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  their  dan-, 
cing.  Not  that  the  three  movements  were  blended  at 
every  turn  of  the  dance,  but  that  one  or  more  of  the 
three  answered  to  every  turn.  The  strut  prevailed 
most  in  balancing ;  the  bobs,  when  balanced  to ;  and 
the  waddle,  when  going  round.  To  all  this  Mrs. 
Mushy  was  an  exception.  When  she  danced,  every 
particle  of  her  danced,  in  spite  of  herself. 

There  was  as  little  variety  in  the  gentlemen's  dan 
cing  as  there  was  in  the  ladies'.  Any  one  who  has 
seen  a  gentleman  clean  mud  off  his  shoes  on  a  door 
mat,  has  seen  nearly  all  of  it ;  the  principal  difference 
being,  that  some  scraped  with  a  pull  of  the  foot,  some 
with  a  push,  and  some  with  both. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I  to  a  gentleman,  "  they  take  no 
steps  because  the  music  will  not  admit  of  them?" 

"  Oh  no,"  said  he  ;  "  it's  quite  ungenteel  to  take 
steps."  I  thought  of  the  wag's  remarks  about  Miss 
Crump's  music.  "  If  this  be  their  dancing,"  thought  I, 
"  what  must  their  mourning  be  !" 

A  splendid  supper  was  prepared  at  twelve  o'clock 
and  the  young  ladies  ate  almonds,  raisins,  apples,  oran 
ges,  jelly,  sillabub,  custard,  candy,  sugar-plums,  kisses 


THE    BALL.  129 

and  cake,  as  if  they  had  been  owing  them  an  old 
grudge.  But  the  married  gentlemen  did  not  come  up 
to  supper. 

"  And  how  did  the  quarrel  end  ?" 

"  Oh  ;  I  had  like  to  have  forgot  the  denouement  of  .'we 
quarrel." 

A  correspondence  opened  the  next  morning  between 
the  parties,  in  which  Noozle  was  diffuse  and  Crouch  la 
conic.  They  once  came  this  near  an  amicable  adjust 
ment  of  the  difference.  Noozle's  second  (for  the  fash- 
ion  is,  for  the  principals  to  get  into  quarrels,  and  for  the 
seconds  to  get  them  out)  agreed,  if  Crouch  would  strike 
the  word  "  it"  out  of  one  of  his  letters,  his  friend  would 
be  perfectly  satisfied. 

Mr.  Crouch's  second  admitted  that  the  removal  of  the 
word  would  not  change  the  sense  of  the  letter  the  least ; 
but  that  Mr.  Crouch,  having  put  his  life  and  character 
in  his  hands,  he  felt  bound  to  protect  them  with  the  most 
scrupulous  fidelity  ;  he  could  not,  therefore,  consent  to 
expunge  the  objectionable  word,  unless  the  challenge 
were  withdrawn.  To  show,  however,  his  reluctance  to 
the  shedding  of  blood,  and  to  acquit  his  friend,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  public,  of  all  blame,  he  would  take  it  upon 
himself  to  say.  that  if  Mr.  Noozle  would  withdraw  his 
objections  to  the  "  t,"  Mr.  Crouch  should  expunge  the 
"i."  This  proposition  was  rejected  ;  but,  in  return,  it 
was  submitted,  that  if  Mr.  Crouch  would  expunge  the 
"t,"  the  "i"  might  remain.  To  which  it  was  replied, 
that  the  alteration  would  convert  the  whole  sentence 
into  nonsence  ;  making  it  read  "  i  is,"  instead  of  "  it 
is,''  &c.  Here  the  seconds  separated,  and  soon  after 
the  principals  met ;  and  Crouch  shot  Noozle,  in  due 
form  and  according  to  the  latest  fashion,  through  the 
knees.  I  went  to  see  him  after  he  had  received  his 
wound  ;  and,  poor  fellow,  he  suffered  dreadful  tor 
tures.  So  much,  said  I,  for  a  young  lady's  lingering 
from  a  ball  an  hour  too  long,  in  order  tc  make  herself 
iionspicuous. 

IJALDWIN. 


13C  THE    MOTHER    AN!)    HER    CHILD. 


THE  MOTHER  AND  HER  CHILD. 

WHENCE  comes  the  gibberish  which  is  almost  inva, 
nably  used  by  mothers  and  nurses  to  infants  ?  Take, 
for  example,  the  following,  which  will  answer  the  two- 
fold  purpose  of  illustrating  my  idea  and  of  exhibiting 
one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  age. 

A  few  days  ago  I  called  to  spend  an  hour  in  the 
afternoon  with  Mr.  Slang,  whose  wife  is  the  mother 
of  a  child  about  eight  months  old. 

While  I  was  there,  the  child  in  the  nurse's  arms,  ii* 
an  adjoining  room,  began  to  cry. 

"  You  Rose,"  said  Mrs.  Slang,  "  quiet  that  child  !" 
Rose  walked  with  it,  and  sang  to  it,  but  it  did  not  hush. 

"  You  Rose  !  if  you  do  not  quiet  that  child,  I  lay  I 
make  you." 

"  I  is  tried,  ma'am,"  said  Rose,  "  an'  he  wouldn't  get 
hushed."  (Child  cries  louder.) 

"  Fetch  him  to  me,  you  good-for-nothing  hussy  you. 
What's  the  matter  with  him  ?"  reaching  out  her  arms 
to  receive  him. 

"  I  dun  know,  ma'am." 

"  Nhei — nhtm — nho — nha'am  !"  (mocking  and  grin 
ning  at  Rose.) 

As  Rose  delivered  the  child,  she  gave  visible  signs 
of  dodging  just  as  the  child  left  her  arms ;  and,  that 
she  might  not  be  disappointed,  Mrs.  Slang  gave  her 
a  box,  in  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  anger  mixed  at 
all,  and  which  Rose  received  as  a  matter  of  course, 
without  even  changing  countenance  under  it. 

"  Da  den  !"  said  Mrs.  Slang  ;  "  come  elonge  muddr 
(mother).  Did  nassy  Yosey  (Rose)  pague  muddy 
thweety  chilluns :"  (children) — pressing  the  child  to  her 
bosom,  and  rocking  it  backward  and  forward  tender, 
ly.  "  Muddins  will  wbippy  ole  nassy  Yosey.  Ah ! 
you  old  uggy  Yosey  !"  (knocking  at  Rose,  playfully.) 


THE    MOTHER    AMD    HER    CHILI).  131 

"Da  6en  ,  muddy  did  whippy  bad  Yosey."  (Child 
continues  crying.) 

"  Why,  what  upon  earth  ails  the  child  ?  Rose,  you've 
hurt  this  child  somehow  or  other  !" 

"  No,  ma'am,  'cla'  I  didn't ;  I  was  just  sitt'n  down 
ilar  in  the  rock'n-chair  'long  side  o'  Miss  Nancy's  bu 
reau,  an'  wa'n't  doin'  noth'n'  't  all  to  him,  jis  playin' 
wid  him,  and  he  jis  begin  to  cry  heself,  when  nobody 
wa'n't  doin'  nothin'  't  all  to  him,  and  nobody  wa'n't  in 
dar  nuther  sept  jis  me  and  him,  and  I  was — " 

"  Nhing — nhing — nhing — and  I  expect  you  hit  his 
head  against  the  bureau1." 

"  Let  muddy  see  where  ole  bad  Yosey  knocky  heady 
'gin  de  bureaus.  Muddy  will  see,"  taking  off  the 
child's  cap,  and  finding  nothing.  (Child  cries  on.) 

"  Muddy's  baby  was  hongry.  Dat  was  what  ails 
muddy's  darling,  thweety  ones.  Was  cho  hongry,  an' 
nobody  would  givy  litty  darling  any  sings  't  all  for  eaty  ?" 
(loosing  her  frock  bosom.)  "  No,  nobody  would  gim 
thweety  ones  any  sings  fo'  eat  't  all."  (Offers  the 
breast  to  the  child,  who  rejects  it,  rolls  over,  kicks,  and 
screams  worse  than  ever.) 

"  Hush  !  you  little  brat !  I  believe  it's  nothing  in  the 
ivorld  but  crossness.  Hush  !"  (shaking  it), "  hush,  I  tell 
you."  (Child  cries  to  the  NE  PLUS  ULTRA.) 

"  Why  surely  a  pin  must  stick  the  child.  Yes,  was 
e  bad  pin  did  ticky  chilluns.  Let  muddy  see  where  de 
uggy  pin  did  ticky  dear  prettous  creter"  (examining). 
'  Why  no,  it  isn't  a  pin.  Why  what  can  be  the  matter 
svith  the  child  !  It  must  have  the  cholic.  surely.  Rose, 
go  bring  me  the  paregoric  off  the  mantelpiece.  Yes, 
muddy's  baby  did  hab  e  tolic.  Dat  was  what  did  ail 
muddy's  prettous  darly  baby."  (Pressing  it  to  her 
bosom,  and  rocking  it.  Child  cries  on.) 

Rose  brought  the  paregoric,  handed  it,  dodged,  and 
got  her  expectations  realized  as  before. 

"  Now  go  bring  me  the  sugar,  and  some  water.1' 

Rose  brought  them,  and  delivered  both  without  the 
customary  reward  ;  for  at  that  instant,  the  child,  being 
laid  perfectly  still  on  the  lap,  hushed. 


132  THE    MOTHER     AND    HJiN    CHILI). 

The  paregoric  was  administered,  and  the  cnild  re 
ceived  it  with  only  a  whimper  now  and  then.  As  soon 
as  it  received  the  medicine,  the  mother  raised  it  up  and 
it  began  to  cry. 

"  Why,  Lord  help  my  soul,  what's  the  matter  with 
the  child  !  What  have  you  done  to  him,  you  little  hus 
sy  ?"  (rising  and  walking  towards  Rose.) 

"  'Cla,'  missis,  I  eint  done  noth'n'  't  all ;  was  jis  sit- 
tin'  down  da  by  Miss  Nancy's  bu — " 

"  You  lie,  you  slut"  (hitting  her  a  passing  slap),  "  1 
know  you've  hurt  him.  Hush,  my  baby"  (singing  tlit 
Coquet),  "  don't  you  cry,  your  sweetheart  will  come 
by'm'by ;  da  de  dum  durn  dum  day,  da  de  dum  diddle 
dum  dum  day."  (Child  cries  on.) 

"  Lord  help  my  soul  and  body,  what  2an  be  the  mat 
ter  with  my  baby  !"  (tears  coming  in  her  own  eyes.) 
"  Something's  the  matter  with  it,  I  know  it  is"  (lay. 
wg  the  child  on  her  lap,  and  feeling  its  arms,  to  see 
whether  it  jlinched  at  the  touch  of  any  particular  part). 
But  the  child  cried  less  while  she  was  feeling  it  than 
efore. 

"  Yes,  dat  was  it ;  wanted  litty  arms  yubb'd.     Mud 
vill  yub  its  sweet  little  arms."     (Child  begins  again.) 
"  What  upon  earth  can  make  my  baby  cry  so  !"  ri 
sing  and  walking  to  the  window.     (Stops  at  the  win- 
dow,  and  the  child  hushes.) 

"  Yes,  dat  was  it :  did  want  to  look  out  'e  windys, 
lee  the  petty  chickens.  O-o-o-h  !  look  at  the  beauty, 
rooster  !  !  Yonder's  old  aunt  Betty  !  See  old  aunt 
Betty,  pickin'  up  chips.  Yes,  ole  aunt  Betty,  pickin'  up 
chip  fo'  bake  bicky  (biscuit)  fo'  good  chilluns.  Good 
aunt  Betty  fo'  make  bicky  fo'  sweet  baby's  supper." 
(Child  begins  again.) 

"  Hoo-o-o !  see  de  windy  !"  (knocking  on  tne  win. 
dow.  Child  screams.) 

"You  Rose,  what  have  you  done  to  this  child  !  You 
ittie  hussy  you,  if  you  don't  tell  me  how  yoi  hurt  him, 
I'll  whip  you  as  long  as  I  can  find  you." 

"  Missis,  I  'cla'  I  never  done  noth'n'  't  all  to  him.  I 
was  jis  sett'n'  down  da  by  Miss  Nancy's  bu — " 


THE    I  KEATING    SOCIETY.  133 

If  you  say  '  Miss  Nancy's  bureau?  to  me  agai;i,  I'll 
stuti  Miss  Nancy's  bureau  down  your  throat,  you  little 
lying  slut.  I'm  just  as  sure  you've  hurt  him  as  if  I'd 
seen  you.  How  did  you  hurt  him  ?" 

Here  Rose  was  reduced  to  a  non  plus ;  for,  upon  the 
peril  of  having  a  bureau  stuffed  down  her  throat,  shi 
dare  not  repeat  the  oft-told  tale,  and  she  knew  no  oth. 
er  She  therefore  stood  mute. 

"  Julia,"  said  Mr.  Slang,  "  bring  the  child  to  me,  ao; 
let  rne  see  if  I  can  discover  the  cause  of  his  crying.' 

Mr.  Slang  took  the  child,  and  commenced  a  carefu. 
examination  of  it.  He  removed  its  cap,  and  beginning 
at  the  crown  of  its  head,  he  extended  the  search  slow 
ly  and  cautiously  downward,  accompanying  the  eye 
with  the  touch  of  the  finger.  He  had  not  proceeded 
far  in  this  way,  before  he  discovered  in  the  right  ear 
of  the  child  a  small  feather,  the  cause,  of  course,  of  all 
its  wailing.  The  cause  removed,  the  child  soon  chan 
ged  its  tears  to  smiles,  greatly  to  the  delight  of  all,  and 
to  none  more  than  to  Rose. 

BALDWIN. 


THE  DEBATING  SOCIETY. 

THE  following  is  not  strictly  a  "  Georgia  Scene ; 
but,  as  Georgians  were  the  chief  actors  in  it,  it  may  per. 
haps  be  introduced  with  propriety  in  these  sketches. 

About  three-and-twenty  years  ago,  at  the  celebra 

ted  school  in  W n,  was  formed  a  Debating  So 

ciety,  composed  of  young  gentlemen  between  the  ages 
of  seventeen  and  twenty. two.  Of  the  number  were 
two,  who,  rather  from  uncommon  volubility  than  frorii 
any  superior  gifts  or  acquirements  which  they  possess. 
ed  over  their  associates,  were,  by  common  consent, 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  fraternity.  At  least  this  was 
true  of  one  of  them  :  the  other  certainly  had  higher 
M 


434  THE    DEBATING    SOCIETY. 

claims  to  his  distinction.  He  was  a  man  of  the  high, 
est  order  of  intellect,  who,  though  he  has  since  been 
known  throughout  the  Union  as  one  of  the  ablest 
speakers  in  the  country,  seems  to  me  to  have  added 
but  little  to  his  powers  in  debate  since  he  passed  his 
twenty-second  year.  The  name  of  the  first  was  Long, 
worth,  and  M'Dermot  was  the  name  of  the  last.  They 
were  congenial  spirits,  warm  friends,  and  classmates 
at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking. 

It  was  a  rule  of  the  society,  that  every  member 
should  speak  upon  the  subjects  chosen  for  discussion, 
or  pay  a  fine  ;  and  as  all  the  members  valued  the  lit- 
dc  stock  of  change  with  which  they  were  furnished 
more  than  they  did  their  reputation  for  oratory,  not  a 
fine  had  been  imposed  for  a  breach  of  this  rule  from 
the  organization  of  the  society  to  this  time. 

The  subjects  for  discussion  were  proposed  by  the 
members  and  selected  by  the  president,  whose  prerog 
ative  it  was  also  to  arrange  the  speakers  on  either  side 
at  his  pleasure ;  though,  in  selecting  the  subjects,  he 
was  influenced  not  a  little  by  the  members,  who  gave 
(heir  opinions  freely  of  those  which  were  offered. 

It  was  just  as  the  time  was  approaching  when  most 
of  the  members  were  to  leave  the  society,  some  for 
college,  and  some  for  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  that 
wl^Derrnot  went  to  share  his  classmate's  bed  for  a 
night.  In  the  course  of  the  evening's  conversation, 
tne  society  came  upon  the  tapis.  "  Mac,"  said  Long, 
worth,  "  wouldn't  we  have  rare  sport  if  we  could  im 
pose  a  subject  upon  the  society  which  has  no  sense  in 
it,  and  hear  the  members  speak  upon  it  ?" 

"  Zounds,"  said  M'Dermot,  "  it  would  be  the  finest 
fun  in  the  world.  Let's  try  it,  at  all  events  ;  we  can 
lose  nothing  by  the  experiment." 

A  sheet  of  foolscap  was  immediately  divided  be 
tween  them,  cind  they  industriously  commenced  the 
difficult  task  of  framing  sentences,  which  should  pos 
sess  tlicform  of  a  debatable  question,  without  a  parti 
cle  of  the  substance.  After  an  hour's  toil,  they  at 
length  exhibited  the  fruits  of  their  labour,  and.  after 


THE    DEBATING    SOCIMT  135 

some  reflection  and  much  laughing,  they  »»elocteil.  from 
about  thirty  subjects  proposed,  the  following,  as  most 
likely  to  be  received  by  the  society  : 

"  WHETHKK.  AT  PUBLIC  ELECTIONS,  SHOULD  THE 
VOTES  OF  FACTION  PREDOMINATE  BY  INTERNAL  SUG 
GESTIONS  OR  THE  BIAS  OF  JURISPRUDENCE?" 

Longworth  was  to  propose  it  to  the  society,  and 
MXDermot  was  to  advocate  its  adoption.  As  they 
hud  every  reason  to  suppose,  from  the  practice  of  the 
past,  that  they  would  be  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
list  of  disputants,  and  on  opposite  sides,  it  was  agreed 
between  them,  in  case  the  experiment  should  sue- 
ceed,  that  they  would  write  off  and  interchange  their 
speeches,  in  order  that  each  might  quote  literally  from 
the  other,  and  thus  seem,  at  least,  to  understand  each 
other. 

The  day  at  length  came  for  the  triumph  or  defeat  of 
the  project ;  and  several  accidental  circumstances  con- 
spired  to  crown  it  with  success.  The  society  had  en 
tirely  exhausted  their  subjects ;  the  discussion  of  the 
day  had  been  protracted  to  an  unusual  length,  and  the 
horns  of  the  several  boarding-houses  began  to  sound 
just  as  it  ended.  It  was  at  this  auspicious  moment 
that  Longworth  rose  and  proposed  his  subject.  It 
was  caught  at  with  rapture  by  M'Dermot,  as  being 
decidedly  the  best  that  had  ever  been  submitted  ;  and 
he  wondered  that  none  of  the  members  had  never 
thought  of  it  before. 

It  was  no  sooner  proposed,  than  several  members 
exclaimed  that  they  did  not  understand  it ;  and  de 
manded  an  explanation  from  the  mover.  Longworth 
replied  that  there  was  no  time  then  for  explanations, 
but  that  either  himself  or  Mr.  M'Dermot  would  explain 
it  at  any  other  time. 

Upon  the  credit  of  the  maker  and  endorser,  the  sub 
ject  was  accepted  ;  and,  under  pretence  of  economi 
zing  time  (but  really  to  avoid  a  repetition  of  the  ques 
tion),  Longworth  kindly  offered  to  record  it  for  the 
secretary.  This  labour  ended,  he  announced  that  ho 
was  prepared  for  the  arrangement,  of  the  disputants. 


136  THE    DEBATING    SOCIETY. 

"  Put  yourself,'  said  the  president,  "  oa  the  affirma- 
tive,  and  Mr.  M'Dermot  on  the  negative." 

"  The  subject,"  said  Longworth,  "  cannot  well  be 
resolved  into  an  affirmative  and  negative.  It  consists, 
more  properly,  of  two  conflicting  affirmatives  ;  I  have 
therefore  drawn  out  the  heads  under  which  the  speak- 
ers  are  to  be  arranged,  thus : 

*  Internal  Suggestions.  Bias  of  Jurisprudence" 

"  Then  put  yourself  Internal  Suggestions,  Mr.  M'Der 
mot  the  other  side  ;  Mr.  Craig  on  your  side,  Mr.  Pen 
tigall  the  other  side,"  and  so  on. 

M'Dermot  and  Longworth  now  determined  that  they 
would  not  be  seen  by  any  other  member  of  the  society 
during  the  succeeding  week,  except  at  times  when  ex 
planations  could  not  be  asked,  or  when  they  were  toy 
busy  to  give  them.  Consequently,  the  week  passed 
away  without  any  explanations ;  and  the  members 
were  summoned  to  dispose  of  the  important  subject, 
with  no  other  lights  upon  it  than  those  which  they 
could  collect  from  its  terms.  When  they  assembled, 
there  was  manifest  alarm  on  the  countenances  of  all 
but  two  of  them. 

The  society  was  opened  in  due  form,  and  Mr.  Long- 
worth  was  called  on  to  open  the  debate.  He  rose  and 
proceeded  as  follows : 

"  Mr.  President — The  subject  selected  for  this  day's 
discussion  is  one  of  vast  importance,  pervading  the 
profound  depths  of  psychology,  and  embracing  within 
its  comprehensive  range  all  that  is  interesting  in  mor 
als,  government,  law,  and  politics.  But,  sir,  I  shall 
not  follow  it  through  all  its  interesting  and  diversified 
ramifications,  but  endeavour  to  deduce  from  it  those 
great  and  fundamental  principles,  which  have  direct 
bearing  upon  the  antagonist  positions  of  the  dispu 
tants  ;  confining  myself  more  immediately  to  its  psy 
chological  influence,  when  exerted,  especially  upon  the 
votes  of  faction :  for  here  ia  the  point  upon  which  the 
question  mainly  turns.  In  the  next  place,  I  shall  con. 
aider  the  effects  oftho.se  'suggestions'  emphatically 


THE    DEBATING    SOC1ETV.  13"7 

termed  « internal'  when  applied  to  the  same  subject. 
And,  in  the  third  place,  I  shall  compare  these  effects 
with  '  the  bias  of  jurisprudence/  considered  as  the  only 
resort  in  times  of  popular  excitement ;  for  these  are 
supposed  to  exist  by  the  very  terms  of  the  question. 

"  The  first  head  of  this  arrangement,  and  indeed  the 
whole  subject  of  dispute,  has  already  been  disposed 
of  by  this  society.  We  have  discussed  the  question, 
'  Are  there  any  innate  maxims  ?'  and  with  that  subject 
and  this  there  is  such  an  intimate  affinity,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  disunite  them,  without  prostrating  the 
vital  energies  of  both,  and  introducing  the  wildest  dis 
order  and  confusion,  where,  by  the  very  nature  of 
things,  there  exists  the  most  harmonious  coincidences 
and  the  most  happy  and  euphonic  congenialities. 
Here  then  might  I  rest,  Mr.  President,  upon  the  decis 
ion  of  this  society  with  perfect  confidence.  But,  sir, 
[  am  not  forced  to  rely  upon  the  inseparable  affinities 
of  the  two  questions  for  success  in  this  dispute,  obvi 
ous  as  they  must  be  to  every  reflecting  mind.  All 
history,  ancient  and  modern,  furnish  examples  corrob 
orative  of  the  views  which  I  have  taken  of  this  deeply 
interesting  subject.  By  what  means  did  the  renowned 
poets,  philosophers,  orators,  and  statesmen  of  antiquity 
gain  their  immortality?  Whence  did  Milton,  Shaks 
peare,  Newton,  Locke,  Watts,  Paley,  Burke,  Chatham 
Pitt,  Fox,  and  a  host  of  others  whom  I  might  name, 
pluck  their  never-fading  laurels?  I  answer  boldly, 
and  without  the  fear  of  contradiction,  that,  though  they 
all  reached  the  temple  of  Fame  by  different  routes, 
they  all  passed  through  the  broad  vista  of  '  internal 
suggestions.'  The  same  may  be  said  of  Jefferson, 
Madison,  and  many  other  distinguished  personages  of 
our  own  country. 

"  I  challenge  the  gentlemen  on  the  other  side  to  pro 
duce  examples  like  these  in  support  of  their  cause." 

Mr.  Longworth  pressed  these  profound  and  logical 

views  to  a  length  to  which  our  limits  will  not  permit 

us  to  follow  him.  and  which  the  reader's  patience  would 

hardly  bear,  if  they  would.     Perhaps,  however,  he  will 

M2 


133  THE    DEBATING    SOCIETV. 

bear  with  us  while  we  give  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Long- 
worth's  remarks  :  as  it  was  here  that  he  put  forth  all 
his  strength  : 

"Mr.  President — Let  the  bias  of  jurisprudence  pre 
dominate,  and  how  is  it  possible  (considering  it  mere 
ly  as  extending  to  those  impulses  which  may  with  pro 
priety  be  termed  a  bias),  how  is  it  possible  for  a  gov 
ernment  to  exist  whose  object  is  the  public  good  !  The 
marble-hearted  marauder  might  seize  the  throne  of 
civil  authority,  and  hurl  into  thraldom  the  votaries  of 
rational  liberty.  Virtue,  justice,  and  all  the  nobler 
principles  of  human  nature  would  wither  away  under 
the  pestilential  breath  of  political  faction,  and  an  un 
nerved  constitution  be  left  to  the  sport  of  demagogue 
and  parasite.  Crash  after  crash  would  be  heard  in 
quick  succession,  as  the  strong  pillars  of  the  republic 
give  way,  and  Despotism  would  shout  in  hellish  triumph 
amid  the  crumbling  ruins.  Anarchy  would  wave  her 
bloody  sceptre  over  the  devoted  land,  and  the  blood 
hounds  of  civil  war  would  lap  the  crimson  gore  of  our 
most  worthy  citizens.  The  shrieks  of  women  and  the 
screams  of  children  would  be  drowned  amid  the  clash  of 
swords  and  the  cannon's  peal :  and  Liberty,  mantling 
her  face  from  the  horrid  scene,  would  spread  her  gol 
den-tinted  pinions,  and  wing  her  flight  to  some  far-dis 
tant  land,  uever  again  to  revisit  our  peaceful  shores. 
In  vain  should  we  then  sigh  for  the  beatific  reign  of 
those  '  suggestions'  which  I  am  proud  to  acknowledge 
as  peculiarly  and  exclusively  '  internal.'  " 

Mr.  M'Dermot  rose  promptly  at  the  call  of  the  pres 
ident,  and  proceeded  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  President — If  I  listened  unmoved  to  the  very 
laboured  appeal  to  the  passions  which  has  just  been 
made,  it  was  not  because  I  am  insensible  to  the  pow 
ers  of  eloquence  ;  but  because  I  happen  to  be  blessed 
with  the  small  measure  of  sense  which  is  necessary  to 
distinguish  true  eloquence  from  the  wild  ravings  of  an 
unbridled  imagination.  Grave  and  solemn  appeals, 
when  ill-timed  and  misplaced,  are  apt  to  excite  ridi 
cule  :  hence  it  was  that  I  detected  myself  more  than 


THB    DEBATiJU;   SOCIETY.  139 

*»KV.  J^e/k  laughter  during  the  most  pathetic  parts 
of  M  .  Longworth's  argument,  if  so  it  can  be  called.* 
In  the  midst  of  '  crashing  pillars,'  •  crumbling  ruins,' 
'  shouting  despotism,'  '  screaming  women,'  and  '  flying 
Liberty,'  the  question  was  perpetually  recurring  to  me, 
what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  subject  of  dispute  ?  I 
will  not  follow  the  example  of  that  gentleman.  It  shall 
be  my  endeavour  to  clear  away  the  mist  which  he  has 
dhrowri  around  the  subject,  and  to  place  it  before  the 
society  in  a  clear,  intelligible  point  of  view  :  for  I  must 
say,  that,  though  his  speech  '  bears  strong  marks  of  the 
pen'  (sarcastically),  it  has  but  few  marks  of  sober  reflec 
tion.  Some  of  it,  I  confess,  is  very  intelligible  and  very 
plausible  ;  but  most  of  it,  I  boldly  assert,  no  man  liv 
ing  can  comprehend.  I  mention  this  for  the  edification 
of  that  gentleman  (who  is  usually  clear  and  forcible), 
to  teach  him  that  he  is  most  successful  when  he  la 
bours  least. 

"  Mr.  President — The  gentleman,  in  opening  the  de 
bate,  stated  that  the  question  was  one  of  vast  impor 
tance  ;  pervading  the  profound  depths  of  psychology, 
and  embracing  within  its  ample  range  the  whole  cir 
cle  of  arts  and  sciences.  And  really,  sir,  he  has  veri 
fied  his  statement. ;  for  he  has  extended  it  over  the 
whole  moral  and  physical  world.  But,  Mr.  President, 
{  take  leave  to  differ  from  the  gentleman  at  the  very 
threshold  of  his  remarks.  The  subject  is  one  which  is 
confined  within  very  narrow  limits.  It  extends  no  far 
ther  than  to  the  elective  franchise,  and  is  not  even 
commensurate  with  this  important  privilege :  for  it 
stops  short  at  the  vote  of  faction.  In  this  point  of  light 
the  subject  comes  within  the  grasp  of  the  most  common 
intellect :  it  is  plain,  simple,  natural,  and  intelligible. 
Thus  viewing  it,  Mr.  President,  where  does  the  gen. 
tleman  find  in  it,  or  in  all  nature  besides,  the  original 
of  the  dismal  picture  which  he  has  presented  to  the  so 
ciety  ?  It  loses  all  its  interest,  and  becomes  supremely 
ridiculous.  Having  thus,  Mr.  President,  aivested  the 

*  This  was  extemporaneous,  and  well  conceived      07  Mr  M'Do- 
oiot  had  not  plaved  his  part  with  becoming  gravity. 


i40  THE    DEBATING    SOCIKTT. 

subject  of  all  obscurity  ;  having  reduced  it  to  those 
few  elements  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  I  prv>ceed 
to  make  a  few  deductions  from  the  premises,  which 
seem  to  me  inevitable,  and  decisive  of  the  question. 
I  lay  it  down  as  a  self-evident  proposition,  that  faction 
in  all  its  forms  is  hideous ;  and  1  maintain,  with  equal 
confidence,  that  it  never  has  been  nor  never  will  be 
restrained  by  those  suggestions  which  the  gentleman 
'  emphatically  terms  internal.'  No,  sir,  nothing  short  of 
the  bias,  and  the  very  strong  bias  too  of  jurisprudence, 
or  the  potent  energies  of  the  sword,  can  restrain  it. 
But,  sir,  I  shall  here,  perhaps,  be  asked,  whether  there 
is  not  a  very  wide  difference  between  a  turbulent,  law. 
less  faction,  and  the  vote  of  faction  ?  Most  unquestion 
ably  there  is  ;  and  to  this  distinction  I  shall  presently 
advert,  and  demonstrably  prove  that  it  is  a  distinction 
which  makes  altogether  in  our  favour." 

Thus  did  Mr.  M'Dermot  continue  to  dissect  and  ex- 
pose  his  adversary's  argument,  in  the  most  clear,  con 
clusive,  and  masterly  manner,  at  considerable  length 
But  we  cannot  deal  more  favourably  by  him  than  we 
have  dealt  by  Mr.  Longworth.  We  must  therefore 
dismiss  him  after  we  shall  have  given  the  reader  his 
concluding  remarks.  They  were  as  follows  : 

"  Let  us  now  suppose  Mr.  Longvvorth's  principles 
brought  to  the  test  of  experiment.  Let  us  suppose  his 
language  addressed  to  all  mankind.  '  We  close  the 
temples  of  justice  as  useless  ;  we  burn  our  codes  of 
laws  as  worthless;  and  we  substitute  in  their  places 
,tlie  more  valuable  restraints  of  internal  suggestions. 
Thieves,  invade  not  your  neighbour's  property  :  if  you 
do,  you  will  be  arraigned  before  the  august  tribuna 
of  conscience.  Robbers,  stay  your  lawless  hand  ;  oj 
you  will  be  visited  with  the  tremendous  penalties  of 
psychology.  Murderers,  spare  the  blood  of  your  fellow- 
creatures  ;  or  you  will  be  exposed  to  the  excruciating 
tortures  of  innate  maxims — when  it  shall  be  discovered 
that  there  are  any.'  Mr.  President,  could  there  be  a 
broader  license  to  crime  than  this  ?  Could  a  better  plan 
be  devised  for  dissolvfng  the  bands  of  civil  society  ?  It 


THE    DEBATING    SOCIETY.  141 

requires  not  the  gift  of  prophecy  to  foresee  the  conse- 
quenees  of  these  novel  and  monstrous  principles.  The 
strong  would  tyrannize  over  the  weak  ;  the  poor  would 
plunder  the  rich ;  the  servant  would  rise  above  the 
master  ;  the  drones  of  society  would  fatten  upon  the 
hard  earnings  of  the  industrious.  Indeed,  sir,  industry 
would  soon  desert  the  land  ;  for  it  would  have  neither 
reward  nor  encouragement.  Commerce  would  cease ; 
arts  and  sciences  would  languish  ;  all  the  sacred  rela 
tions  would  be  dissolved,  and  scenes  of  havoc,  dissolu 
tion,  and  death  ensue,  such  as  never  will  visit  it  until 
mankind  learn  to  repose  their  destinies  upon  '  those 
suggestions  emphatically  termed  internal.'  From  all 
these  evils  there  is  a  secure  retreat  behind  the  brazen 
wall  of  the  '  bias  of  jurisprudence.'  ' 

The  gentleman  who  was  next  called  on  to  engage  in 
the  debate  was  John  Craig ;  a  gentleman  of  good  hard 
sense,  but  who  was  utterly  incompetent  to  say  a  word 
upon  a  subject  which  he  did  not  understand.  He  pro 
ceeded  thus : 

"  Mr.  President — When  this  subject  \vas  proposed,  I 
candidly  confessed  I  did  not  understand  it,  and  I  was 
informed  by  Mr.  Longworth  and  Mr.  M'Dermot  that 
either  of  them  would  explain  it  at  any  leisure  moment. 
But,  sir,  they  seem  to  have  taken  very  good  care,  from 
that  time  to  this,  to  have  no  leisure  moment.  I  have 
inquired  of  both  of  them  repeatedly  for  an  explana 
tion  ;  but  they  were  always  too  busy  to  talk  about  it. 
Well,  sir,  as  it  was  proposed  by  Mr.  Longworth,  I 
thought  he  would  certainly  explain  it  in  his  speech ;  but 
{  understood  no  more  of  his  speech  than  I  did  of  the 
subject.  Well,  sir,  I  thought  I  should  certainly  learn 
something  from  Mr.  M'Dermot ;  especially  as  he  prom 
ised,  at  the  commencement  of  his  speech,  to  clear  away 
the  mist  that  Mr.  Longworth  had  thrown  about  the 
subject,  and  to  place  it  in  a  clear,  intelligible  poist 
of  light.  But,  sir,  the  only  difference  between  his 
speech  and  Mr.  Longworth's  is,  that  it  was  not  quite 
as  flightj  as  Mr.  Longworth's.  I  couldn't  understand 
head  nor  tail  of  it.  At  one  time  the;r  seemed  to  argue 


142  THE    DEHAT1NG    SOCIETY. 

the  question  as  if  it  were  this  :  '  Is  it  better  to  Kara 
law  or  no  law !'  AL  another,  as  though  it  was,  '  Should 
faction  be  governed  by  law,  or  be  left  to  their  own  con 
sciences  V  But  most  of  the  time  they  argued  it  as  i/ 
it  were  just  what  it  seems  to  be — a  sentence  without 
sense  or  meaning.  But,  sir,  1  suppose  its  obscurity  is 
owing  to  my  dulness  of  apprehension ;  for  they  ap 
peared  to  argue  it  with  g'-eat  earnestness  and  feeling, 
as  if  they  understood  it. 

"  I  shall  put  my  interpretation  upon  it,  Mr.  President, 
and  argue  it  accordingly. 

'"WHETHER,  AT  PUBLIC  ELECTIONS' — that  is,  for  mem- 
bers  of  Congress,  members  of  the  Legislature,  &c., 
'  SHOULD  THE  VOTES  of  faction1 — I  don't  know  what  'fac 
tion'  has  got  to  do  with  it  ;  and  therefore  1  shall  throw 

it  OUt.       'SHOULD  THE  VOTES  PREDOMINATE,    BY   INTER- 

NAL  SUGGESTIONS  OR  THE  BIAS' — I  don't  know  what  the 
article  is  put.  in  here  for.  It  seems  to  me  it  ought  to 
be,  be  BIASED  by  'jurisprudence'  or  law.  In  short,  Mr. 
President,  I  understand  the  question  to  be,  should  a 
man  vote  as  he  pleases,  or  should  the  law  say  how 
he  should  vote  ?" 

Here  Mr.  Longworth  rose  and  observed,  that  though 
Mr.  Craig  was  on  his  side,  he  felt  it  due  to  their  adver 
saries  to  state,  that  this  was  not  a  true  exposition  of  the 
subject.  This  exposition  settled  the  question  at  once 
on  his  side  ;  for  nobody  would  for  a  moment  contend 
that  the  law  should  declare  how  men  should  vote.  Un 
less  it  be  confined  to  the  vote  of  faction  and  the  bias  of 
jurisprudence,  it  was  no  subject  at  all.  To  all  this  Mr. 
M'Dermot  signified  his  unqualified  approbation  ;  and 
seemed  pleased  with  the  candour  of  his  opponent. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Craig,  "  I  thought  it  was  impossible 
that  any  one  should  propose  such  a  question  as  that  to 
the  society;  but  will  Mr.  Longworth  tell  us,  if  it  does 
Qot  mean  that,  what  does  it  mean  ?  for  I  don't  seo 
what  great  change  is  made  in  it  by  his  explanation." 

Mr.  Longworth  replied,  that  if  the  remarks  which  he 
had  just  made,  and  his  argument,  had  not  fully  explain- 


THE    DEBATING    SOCIETY.  143 

ed  the  .suoject  to  Mr.  Craig,  he  feaied  it  would  be  ou» 
of  his  power  to  explain  it. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Craig,  "  I'll  pay  mj  fine,  for  1 
don't  understand  a  word  of  it." 

The  next  uae  summoned  to  the  debate  was  Mr.  Pen 
tigall.  Mr.  Pentigall  was  one  of  those  who  would 
never  acknowledge  his  ignorance  of  anything  whicli 
any  person  else  understood  ;  and  that  Longworth  and 
M'Dermot  were  both  masters  of  the  subject,  was  clear, 
both  from  their  fluency  and  seriousness.  He  therefore 
determined  to  understand  it,  at  all  hazards.  Conse 
quently,  he  rose  at  the  president's  command  with  con 
siderable  self-confidence.  I  regret,  however,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  commit  Mr.  Pentigall's  manner  to  paper, 
without  which  his  remarks  lose  nearly  all  their  interest. 
He  was  a  tall,  handsome  man  ;  a  little  theatric  in  his 
manner,  rapid  in  his  delivery,  and  singular  in  his  pro 
nunciation.  He  gave  to  the  e  and  i  of  our  language 
the  sound  of  u ;  at  least  his  peculiar  intonations  of  voice 
seemed  to  give  them  that  sound  ;  and  his  rapidity  of 
utterance  seemed  to  change  the  termination  "  fo'on"  into 
"  ah."  With  all  his  peculiarities,  however,  he  was  a 
fine  fellow.  If  he  was  ambitious,  he  was  not  invidious, 
and  he  possessed  an  amicable  disposition.  He  pro 
ceeded  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  President — This  internal  suggestion  whicli  has 
been  so  eloquently  discussed  by  Mr.  Longworth,  and 
the  bias  of  jurisprudence  which  has  been  so  ably  advo. 
cated  by  Mr.  M'Dermot — hem  ! — Mr.  President,  in  or 
der  to  fix  the  line  of  demarcation  between — ah — the  in 
ternal  suggestion  and  the  bias  of  jurisprudence — Mr 
President,  I  think,  sir,  that — ah — the  subject  must  be 
confined  to  the  vole  of  faction  and  the  bias  of  jurispru. 
dence." 

Here  Mr.  Pentigall  clapped  his  right  hand  to  his  fore- 
head,  as  though  he  had  that  moment  heard  some  over, 
powering  news  ;  and,  after  maintaining  this  position 
for  about  the  space  often  seconds,  he  slowly  withdrew 
his  hand,  gave  his  head  a  slight  inclination  to  the  right, 
raised  his  eyes  to  the  president  as  if  just  awakening 


144  THE  DEBATING    SOCIETY. 

from  a  trance,  and  with  a  voice  of  the  most  hopeless 
despair,  concluded  with,  *  I  don't  understand  the  sub 
ject,  Muster  Prusidunt." 

The  rest  of  the  members  on  both  sides  submitted  to 
be  fined  rather  than  attempt  the  knotty  subject ;  but, 
by  common  consent,  the  penal  rule  was  dispensed  with. 
Nothing  now  remained  to  close  the  exercises  but  the 
decision  of  the  chair. 

The  president,  John  Nuble,  was  a  young  man  not 
unlike  Craig  in  his  turn  of  mind,  though  he  possessed 
an  intellect  a  little  more  sprightly  than  Craig's.  His 
decision  was  short. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  understand  the  sub. 
ject.  This,"  continued  he  (pulling  out  his  knife,  and 
pointing  to  the  silvered  or  cross  side  of  it),  "  is  '  Inter- 
nal  Suggestions.'  And  this"  (pointing  to  the  other,  or 
pile  side)  "  is  '  Bias  of  Jurisprudence  :'  "  so  saying,  he 
threw  up  his  knife,  and  upon  its  fall  determined  that 
"  Internal  Suggestions"  had  got  it ;  and  ordered  the 
decision  to  be  registered  accordingly. 

It  is  worthy  of  note,  that  in  their  zeal  to  accomplish 
their  purpose,  Longworth  and  M'Dermot  forgot  to  de 
stroy  the  lists  of  subjects  from  which  they  had  select- 
ed  the  one  so  often  mentioned  ;  and  one  of  these  lists, 
containing  the  subject  discussed,  with  a  number  more 
like  it,  was  picked  up  by  Mr.  Craig,  who  made  a  pub 
lic  exhibition  of  it,  threatening  to  arraign  the  conspir- 
ators  before  the  society  for  a  contempt.  But,  as  the 
parting  hour  was  at  hand,  he  overlooked  it  with  the 
rest  of  th;  brctherhocd,  and  often  laughed  heartily  at 
the  trick. 

HALL. 


THE    MILT /I A    COMPANY    DRILL.  145 


THE  MILITIA  COMPANY  DRILL.* 

I  HAPPENED,  not  long  since,  to  be  present  at  the 
nuster  of  a  captain's  company  in  a  remote  part  of  one 
of  the  counties ;  and  as  no  general  description  could 
<onvey  an  accurate  idea  of  the  achievements  of  that 
day,  1  must  be  permitted  to  go  a  little  into  detail,  as 
well  as  my  recollection  will  serve  me. 

The  men  had  been  notified  to  meet  at  nine  o'clock, 
'  armed  and  equipped  as  the  law  directs ;"  that  is  to 
say,  with  a  gun  and  cartridge  box  at  least,  but,  as  di 
rected  by  the  law  of  the  United  States,  "  with  a  good 
firelock,  a  sufficient  bayonet  and  belt,  and  a  pouch  with 
a  box  to  contain  no  less  than  twenty-four  sufficient  car. 
tridges  of  powder  and  ball." 

At  twelve,  about  one  third,  perhaps  one  half,  of  the 
men  had  collected,  and  an  inspector's  return  of  the 
number  present,  and  of  their  arms,  would  have  stood 
nearly  thus :  1  captain,  1  lieutenant ;  ensign,  none  ; 
fifers,  none  ;  privates,  present,  24  ;  ditto,  absent,  40  ; 
guns,  14  ;  gunlocks,  12  ;  ramrods,  10  ;  rifle  pouches, 
3 ;  bayonets,  none  ;  belts,  none ;  spare  flints,  none  ; 
cartridges,  none  ;  horsewhips,  walking  canes,  and  um 
brellas,  10.  A  little  before  one,  the  captain,  whom  I 
shall  distinguish  by  the  name  of  Clodpole,  gave  direc 
tions  for  forming  the  line  of  parade.  In  obedience  to 
this  order,  one  of  the  sergeants,  whose  lungs  had  long 
supplied  the  place  of  a  drum  and  fife,  placed  himself 
in  front  of  the  house,  and  began  to  bawl  with  great 
vehemence,  "  All  Captain  Clodpole's  company  parade 
here  !  Come,  GENTLEMEN,  parade  here  !"  says  he  ; 
"all  you  that  hasn't  got  guns  fall  into  the  lower  eend." 
He  might  have  bawled  till  this  time,  with  as  little  sue 

*  This  is  from  the  pen  of  a  friend,  who  has  kindly  permitted  me 
to  nlace  it  among  the  "  Georgia  Scenes."     It  was  taken  from  the  Iifel 
no  published  about  twenty  years  ago. —  The  Author. 

N 


1.46  THE    MILITIA   COMPANY    DRILL. 

cess  as  the  sirens  sung  to  Ulysses,  had  he  not  changed 
Ms  post  to  a  neighbouring  shade.  There  he  was  im 
mediately  joined  by  all  who  were  then  at  leisure ;  the 
others  were  at  that  time  engaged  as  parties  or  specta 
tors  at  a  game  of  fives,  and  could  not  just  then  attend. 
However,  in  less  than  half  an  hour  the  game  was  fin. 
ished,  and  the  captain  enabled  to  form  his  company, 
and  proceed  in  the  duties  of  the  day. 

"  Look  to  the  right  and  dress  /" 

They  were  soon,  by  the  help  of  the  non-commia 
sioned  officers,  placed  in  a  straight  line  ;  but,  as  every 
man  was  anxious  to  see  how  the  rest  stood,  those  on 
the  wings  pressed  forward  for  that  purpose,  till  the 
whole  line  assumed  nearly  the  form  of  a  crescent. 

"  Why,  look  at  'em,"  says  the  captain ;  "  why,  gen- 
tlemen,  you  are  all  a  crooking  in  at  both  eends,  so  that 
you  will  get  on  to  me  by-and-by !  Come,  gentlemen, 
dress,  dress!" 

This  was  accordingly  done ;  bv\t,  impelled  by  the 
same  motives  as  before,  they  soon  resumed  their  for 
mer  figure,  and  so  they  were  permitted  to  remain. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  says  the  captain,  "  I  am  going 
to  carry  you  through  the  revolutions  of  the  manual 
exercise  ;  and  I  want  you,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,  to 
pay  particular  attention  to  the  word  of  command,  just 
exactly  as  I  give  it  out  to  you.  I  hope  you  will  have 
a  little  patience,  gentlemen,  if  you  please ;  and  if  I 
should  be  agoing  wrong,  I  will  be  much  obliged  to  any 
of  you,  gentlemen,  to  put  me  right  again,  for  I  mean 
all  for  the  best,  and  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  if  you 
please.  And  one  thing,  gentlemen,  I  caution  you 
against,  in  particular,  and  that  is  this  :  nor  to  make 
any  mistakes  if  you  can  possibly  help  it ;  and  the  befit 
way  to  do  this  will  be  to  do  all  the  motions  right  al 
first ;  and  that  will  help  us  to  get  along  so  much  the 
faster ;  and  I  will  try  to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possi 
ble.  Come,  boys,  come  to  a  shoulder. 

"Poise,  foolk!* 

*  A  contraction  and  corruption  of  "  firelock."    Thus :  " 
"flock,"  "foolk." 


THE    MILITIA   COMPANY    DRILL  147 

••  Cock,foolk  !     Very  handsomely  done. 

"  Take,  aim ' 

"  Ram  doum,  catridge  !  No !  no  !  Fire  !  I  recol 
:ect  now  that  firing  comes  next  after  taking  aim,  ac 
cording  in  Steuben  ;  but,  with  your  permission,  gen 
llemen,  I'll  read  the  words  of  command  just  exactly 
as  they  are  printed  in  the  book,  and  then  I  shall  be  suro 
to  be  right." 

"  Oh,  yes !  read  it,  captain,  read  it !"  exclaimed 
twenty  voices  at  once  ;  "  that  will  save  time." 

"  'Tention  the  whole  !  Please  to  observe,  gentlemen, 
.hat  at  the  word  *  fire  !'  you  must  fire  ;  that  is,  if  any 
of  your  guns  are  loaden'd,  you  must  not  shoot  in  year- 
nest,  but  only  make  pretence  like  ;  and  you,  gentlemen 
Bellow-soldiers,  who's  armed  with  nothing  but  sticks, 
riding-switches,  and  corn-stalks,  needn't  go  through 
the  firings,  but  stand  as  you  are,  and  keep  yourselves 
to  yourselves. 

"Half  cock,foolk!     Very  well  done. 

"  S-h-e.t  (spelling)  Shet,  pan  !  That  too  would  have 
been  handsomely  done,  if  you  hadn't  handled  catridge 
instead  of  shotting  pan ;  but  I  suppose  you  wasn't  no. 
ticing.  Now  'tention  one  and  all,  gentlemen,  and  do 
that  motion  again. 

"  Shet,  pan  !  Very  good,  very  well  indeed  ;  you  did 
that  motion  equal  to  any  old  soldier  ;  you  improve  aa 
tonishingly. 

"  Handle,  catridge  !  Pretty  well,  considering  you 
done  it  wrong  end  foremost,  as  if  you  took  the  catridge 
out  of  your  mouth,  and  bit  off  the  twist  with  the  cat- 
ddge-box. 

"  Draw,  rammer  !  Those  who  have  no  rammers  to 
heir  guns  need  not  draw,  but  only  make  the  motion ; 
;t  will  do  just  as  well,  and  save  a  great  deal  of  time. 

"Return,  rammer!  Very  well  again.  But  thai 
would  have  been  done,  I  think,  with  greater  expertness 
if  you  had  performed  the  motion  with  a  little  more 
dexterity. 

"  S-h-o-u-l — Shoulder,  foolk!  Very  handsomelj 
done  indeed !  Put  your  guns  on  the  other  shoulder 
gentlemen. 


148  THE    MILITIA    COMPANY    DRILL. 

"  Order,  foolk  !  Not  quite  so  well,  gentlemen  ;  not 
quite  altogether  ;  but  perhaps  I  did  not  speak  loud 
enough  for  you  to  hear  me  all  at  once.  Try  once 
more,  if  you  please.  I  hope  you  will  be  patient,  gen- 
tlemen  ;  we  will  soon  be  through. 

"  Order,  foolk  !  Handsomely  done,  gentlemen  ! 
Very  handsomely  done  !  and  all  together  too,  except 
that  one  half  of  you  were  a  leetle  too  soon,  and  the 
other  half  a  leetle  too  late. 

"  In  laying  down  your  guns,  gentlemen,  take  care  to 
lay  the  locks  up  and  the  other  side  down. 

*' '  Tention  the  whole  !     Ground,  foolk  !     Very  well. 

"  Charge,  bayonet  /" 

(Some  of  the  men) — "  That  can't  be,  captain :  pray 
ook  again  ;  for  how  can  we  charge  bayonet  without 
our  guns  ?" 

(Captain) — "  I  don't  know  as  to  that,  but  I  know  I'm 
right,  for  here  'tis  printed  in  the  book  ;  c-h-a-r — yes, 
charge,  bayonet,  that's  right,  that's  the  word,  if  I  know 
how  to  read.  Come,  gentlemen,  do  pray  charge  bay. 
onet  !  Charge,  I  say  !  Why  don't  you  charge  !  Do 
you  think  it  aint  so  ?  Do  you  think  I  have  lived  to 
this  time  o'  day,  and  don't  know  what  charge  bayonet 
is  ?  Here,  come  here,  you  may  see  for  yourselves ; 
it's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  fa — stop — stay — no 
— halt !  no  !  Faith,  I'm  wrong  !  I  turned  over  two 
leaves  at  once.  I  beg  your  pardon,  we  will  not  stay 
out  long ;  and  we'll  have  something  to  drink  as  soon 
as  we  have  done.  Come,  boys,  get  off  the  stumps 
and  logs,  and  take  up  your  guns  ;  we'll  soon  be  done  : 
excuse  me  if  you  please. 

"  Fix,  bayonet ! 

"  Advance,  arms  !  Very  well  done  :  turn  the  stocks 
of  your  guns  in  front,  gentlemen,  and  that  will  bring 
the  barrels  behind  ;  hold  them  straight  up  and  down,  if 
you  please  ;  let  go  with  your  left,  and  take  hold  with 
your  right  hand  below  the  guard.  Steuben  says  the 
gun  should  be  held  p-e-r — pertic'lar ;  yes,  you  must  al. 
ways  mind  and  hold  your  guns  very  pertic'lar.  Now 
boys  'tention  the  whole  ! 


THE    MILITIA   ciMlfAN?    DRILL.  149 


"  Present,  arms  !  Very  handsomely  done  !  only 
hold  your  gun  over  t'other  knee  —  t'other  hand  up  — 
turn  your  hands  round  a  little,  and  raise  them  up  high. 
er  —  draw  t'other  foot  back  —  now  you  are  nearly  right 
—  very  well  done. 

"  Gentlemen,  we  come  now  to  the  revolutions.  Men, 
you  have  all  got  into  a  sort  of  snarl,  as  I  may  say  ; 
how  did  you  all  get  into  such  a  higglety  pigglety  ?" 

The  fact  was,  the  shade  had  moved  considerably  to 
the  eastward,  and  had  exposed  the  right  wing  of  these 
nardy  veterans  to  a  galling  fire  of  the  sun.  Being 
poorly  provided  with  umbrellas  at  this  end  of  the  line, 
they  found  it  convenient  to  follow  the  shade  ;  and  in 
huddling  to  the  left  for  this  purpose,  they  changed  the 
figure  of  their  line  from  that  of  a  crescent  to  one  which 
more  nearly  resembled  a  pair  of  pothooks. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,"  says  the  captain,  "  spread  your- 
selves  out  again  into  a  straight  line  ;  and  let  us  get  into 
the  wheelings  and  other  matter",  as  soon  as  possible." 

But  this  was  strenuously  opposed  by  the  soldiers. 
They  objected  to  going  into  the  revolutions  at  all,  in 
asmuch  as  the  weather  was  extremely  hot,  and  they 
had  already  been  kept  in  the  field  upward  of  three 
quarters  of  an  hour.  They  reminded  the  captain  o 
his  repeated  promise  to  be  as  short  as  he  possibly  could, 
and  it  was  clear  he  could  dispense  with  all  this  wheel 
ing  and  flourishing  if  he  chose.  They  were  already 
very  thirsty,  and  if  he  would  not  dismiss  them,  they 
declared  they  would  go  off"  without  dismission,  and 
get  something  to  drink,  and  he  might  fine  them  if  that 
would  do  him  any  good  ;  they  were  able  to  pay  their 
fine,  but  would  not  go  without  drink  to  please  anybody  ; 
and  they  swore  they  would  never  vote  for  another  cap. 
tain  who  wished  to  be  so  unreasonably  strict. 

The  captain  behaved  with  great  spirit  upon  the  oc 
casion,  and  a  smart  colloquv  ensued  ;  when  at  length 
becoming  exasperated  to  the  last  degree,  he  roundly 
asserted  that  no  soldier  ought  ever  to  think  hard  of  tho 
orders  of  his  officer  ;  and,  finailv.  he  went  f»  f*r  »« 
to  say,  that  he  did  not  think  anv  aront'cwan  on  tV>* 


150  THE    MILITiA    COMPANY    DRILL. 

ground  had  any  just  cause  to  be  offended  with  him 
The  dispute  Tvas  finally  settled  by  the  captain  sending 
for  some  grog  for  their  present  accommodation,  and 
agreeing  to  omit  reading  the  military  law,  and  the  per- 
formance  of  all  the  manoeuvres,  except  two  or  three 
such  easy  and  simple  ones  as  could  be  performed  within 
the  compass  of  the  shade.  After  they  had  drank  their 
grog  and  had  spread  "  themselves,"  they  were  divided 
into  platoons. 

"  '  Tention  the  whole  !     To  the  right  wheel  /" 

Each  man  faced  to  the  right  about. 

"  Why,  gentlemen,  I  did  not  mean  for  every  man  to 
stand  still  and  turn  himself  na'trally  right  round  ;  but 
when  I  told  you  to  wheel  to  the  right,  I  intended  you 
to  wheel  round  to  the  right,  as  it  were.  Please  to  try 
again,  gentlemen  ;  every  right-hand  man  must  stand 
fast,  and  only  the  others  turn  round." 

In  the  previous  part  of  the  exercise,  it  had,  for  the 
purpose  of  sizing,  been  necessary  to  denominate  every 
second  person  a  "  right-hand  man."  A  very  natural 
consequence  was,  that,  on  the  present  occasion,  these 
right-hand  men  maintained  their  position,  all  the  inter 
mediate  ones  facing  about  as  before. 

"  Why,  look  at  'em,  now  !"  exclaimed  the  captain, 
in  extreme  vexation  ;  "  I'll  be  d — d  if  you  understand 
a  word  I  say.  Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  it  rayty  seems 
as  if  you  could  not  come  at  it  exactly.  In  wheeling 
to  the  right,  the  right-hand  eend  of  the  platoon  stands 
<ast,  and  the  other  eend  comes  round  like  a  swingle- 
tree.  Those  on  the  outside  must  march  faster  than 
those  on  the  inside.  You  certainly  must  understand 
me  now,  gentlemen  ;  and  please  to  try  it  once  more." 

In  this  they  were  a  little  more  successful. 

"  'Tention  the  whole  !  To  the  left— left,  no— right — 
that  is,  the  left — /  mean  the  right — left,  wheel,  march  /" 

In  this  he  was  strictly  obeyed  ;  some  wheeling  to 
the  right,  some  to  the  left,  and  some  to  the  right-left,  or 
both  ways. 

"  Stop  !  halt  !     Let  us  try  it  again  !     I  could  not  jusl 
tell  my  right  hand  from  my  left !     You  must  ex. 


THE    M.LITIA    COMPANY    DRILL.  151 

cuse  Hie,  if  you  please  ;  experience  makes  perfect,  aa 
the  saying  is.  Long  as  I  have  served,  1  And  some- 
thing  new  to  learn  every  day ;  but  all's  one  for  that. 
Now,  gentlemen,  do  that  motion  once  more." 

By  the  help  of  a  non-commissioned  officer  in  front 
of  each  platoon,  they  wheeled  this  time  with  consider 
able  regularity. 

"  Now,  boys,  you  must  try  to  wheel  by  divisions ; 
and  there  is  one  thing  in  particular  which  I  have  to 
request  of  you,  gentlemen,  and  that  is,  not  to  make  any 
blunder  in  your  wheeling.  You  must  mind  and  keep 
at  a  wheeling  distance,  and  not  talk  in  the  ranks,  nor 
get  out  of  fix  again ;  for  I  want  you  to  do  this  motion 
well,  and  not  to  make  any  blunder  now. 

"  '  Tention  the  whole !  By  divisions,  to  the  right 
wheel,  march  /" 

In  doing  this  it  seemed  as  if  Bedlam  had  broke  loose  : 
every  man  took  the  command.  Not  so  fast  on  the 
right  !  Slow  now  !  Haul  down  those  umbrellas  ! 
Faster  on  the  left !  Keep  back  a  little  there !  Don't 
scrouge  so  !  Hold  up  your  gun,  Sam  !  Go  faster 

there !  faster  !     Who  trod  on  my ?     D n  your 

huffs  !  Keep  back  !  Stop  us,  captain,  do  stop  us  ! 
Go  faster  there  !  I've  lost  my  shoe  !  Get  up  again, 
Ned  !  Halt !  halt !  halt !  Stop,  gentlemen  !  stop  ! 
stop ! 

By  this  time  they  had  got  into  utter  and  inextricable 
tonfusion,  and  so  I  left  them. 

TIMOTHY  CRABSHAW. 


158  THE    TURF 


THE  TURF. 

•'  COME,"  said  my  friend  Baldwin  to  me ,  a  few  muntlu 
ago,  "let  us  go  to  the  turf." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  take  no  interest  in  its  amusements." 

"Nor  do  I,"  rejoined  he  ;  "but  I  visit  it  to  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  the  human  character,  as  it  exhibits  it 
self  in  the  various  scenes  of  life,  and  with  the  hope  ol 
turning  the  knowledge  thus  acquired  to  some  good  ac 
count.  I  am  the  more  desirous  that  you  should  accom 
pany  me,"  continued  he,  "  because,  as  one  pair  of  eyes 
and  ears  cannot  catch  all  that  passes  within  a  scene 
so  spacious,  I  shall  lose  many  instructing,  interesting, 
or  amusing  incidents  without  the  assistance  of  a  friend 
and  therefore  I  wish  to  enlist  your  services." 

"  Well."  said  I,  "  with  this  view  I  will  accompany 
you." 

We  went ;  and  the  following  is  the  result  of  our 
joint  observations  : 

We  went  early,  when  as  yet  no  one  had  reached  the 
ground  but  those  who  occupied  the  booths  for  the  pur 
pose  of  traffic.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before 
crowds  of  persons,  of  all  ages,  sexes,  conditions,  and 
complexions,  were  seen  moving  towards  the  booths ; 
some  on  foot,  some  on  horseback,  some  in  gigs,  some 
in  carriages,  some  in  carts,  and  some  in  wagons.  The 
carriages  (generally  filled  with  well-dressed  ladies) 
arranged  themselves  about  thirty  or  forty  paces  from 
the  starting-point,  towards  the  centre  of  the  turf. 
Around  these  circled  many  young  gentlemen,  each  ri 
ding  his  prettiest,  whipping,  spurring,  and  curbing  his 
horse  into  the  most  engaging  antics,  and  giving  visible 
token  that  he  thought  every  eye  from  the  carriages  was 
on  him,  and  every  heart  overpowered  by  his  horse- 
manship.  As  many  more  plied  between  the  booths 
and  carriages,  bearing  messages,  rumours,  apples, 
oranges,  raisins,  lemonade,  and  punch. 


THE   TtlF.  153 

**  But  surely  no  lady  drank  the  punch  S" 

"  Yes,  three  of  them  did  ;  and  if  I  know  what  large 
swallows  mean,  they  loved  it  too — but  they  didn't  drink 
long.  The  ladies  ought  to  be  informed,  however, 
that  a  countryman  passing  them  observed,  '  the  way 
them  wor.nin  love  punch  is  nothing  to  nobody  !' " 

The  gentlemen  generally  collected  about  the  booths, 
and  employed  themselves  in  loud  talking  and  drinking. 
Here  I  saw  Major  Close,  who  two  hours  before  declared 
he  had  not  enough  to  pay  a  poor  woman  for  the  ma- 
king  the  vest  he  had  on,  treat  a  large  company  to  a  dol- 
lar  bowl  of  punch ;  and,  ten  minutes  after,  I  saw  the 
same  man  stake  fifty  dollars  on  the  race.  I  saw  an- 
other  gentleman  do  the  same,  who,  four  days  before, 
permitted  his  endorser  to  lift  his  note  in  bank  for  one 
hundred  dollars,  which  note  the  endorser  still  held. 
But,  thought  I,  the  way  these  gentlemen  treat  their 
creditors  "is  nothing  to  nobody."  One  thing  I  re- 
marked  upon  this  occasion,  which  should  not  be  pass 
ed  in  silence.  I  saw  many  gentlemen  drink  spirits 
upon  the  turf,  whom  1  never  saw  taste  it  anywhere 
else  ;  some  because  it  seemed  fashionable,  and  some 
because  they  would  bet  nothing  but  a  glass  of  toddy 
or  a  bowl  of  punch,  and,  having  bet  it,  they  must  help 
drink  it. 

I  had  been  employed  perhaps  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  in  making  observations  upon  the  scene  which 
was  before  me,  when  I  observed  a  group  of  negroes 
and  boys  enter  one  of  the  gates  of  the  turf,  following, 
with  much  seeming  interest,  a  horse  which  was  led  by 
an  aged  black,  by  whose  side  walked  a  little  negro  boy 
about  thirteen  years  of  age,  dressed  in  pink  through- 
out.  I  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  horse  was  one  which 
was  entered  for  the  day's  running ;  and  as  I  was  de 
sirous  of  seeing  all  the  competitors  before  the  race,  I 
advanced  to  meet  him  apart  from  the  crowd.  As  soon 
as  I  approached  near  enough  to  distinguish  the  fea. 
tures  of  the  old  negro  who  led  the  animal,  I  discover 
ed  that  he  was  a  gentleman  who,  upon  that  day  at 
least,  was  to  be  approached  only  with  the  most  pro- 


154  THE    TURF. 

found  rjspcct.  His  step  was  martial,  his  eye  looked 
directly  forward,  and  his  countenance  plainly  indicated 
that  he  had  many  deep  things  shut  up  in  his  brain, 
which  the  world  had  long  been  trying  to  pry  into, 
in  vain.  I  concluded,  however,  that  I  might  venture 
to  ask  him  a  question,  which  all  who  had  read  the 
morning's  Chronicle  could  have  answered.  I  there 
fore  took  the  liberty  of  addressing  him,  as  soon  as  he 
came  near  me,  with, 

"  Old  man,  what  horse  is  that  ?" 
The  question  seemed  to  come  like  a  thunder-bolt 
among  his  contemplations  ;  and,  without  speaking  a 
word,  he  bent  upon  me  a  look  which  I  perfectly  un 
derstood  to  mean, 

"  Pray,  sir,  where  were  you  born  and  brought  up  ?" 
Having  been  thus  foiled  by  the  old  man,  I  resolved 
to  try  my  luck  with  the  rider ;  accordingly,  I  repeated 
the  question  to  him.  He  stopped,  and  was  in  the  act, 
as  I  thought,  of  answering,  when  the  old  man  bawled 
out  to  him,  in  an  angry  tone, 

"  Come  along,  you  Bill ;  never  keep  behind  you  hoss 
when  you  fuss  (first)  come  on  the  ground." 

Bill  obeyed  promptly,  and  took  his  position  by  his 
majesty,  who  observed  to  him,  in  an  under  tone,  as  he 
carne  alongside, 

"  Never  tell  de  name  you  hoss ;  it's  bad  luck." 
Bill's  confusion  plainly  showed  that  he  ought  to  have 
known  a  thing  so  obvious  from  his  infancy.  I  was  as 
much  disconcerted  as  Bill ;  but  was  soon  relieved  by 
a  pert  little  blackamoor,  who,  rather  to  persuade  me 
that  he  was  in  all  the  secrets  of  the  turf  than  in  chari. 
ty  to  me,  addressed  me  with, 

"  Master,  I'll  tell  you  what  hoss  dat  is." 
"  Well,  my  boy,""said  I,  "  what  horse  is  it  ?" 
"  He  young  Butteram,  son  o'  oh  Butteram,  dat  usen 
to  belong  to  Mr.  Swingletree." 

"  And  do  you  know  all  the  horses  that  are  going  to 
run  to-day?"  said  I. 

"  La,  yes,  sir,"  said  he  ;  "  I  know  ebery  one  dat's 
gwine  to  run  ebery  day." 


THE   TURF  155 

I  concluded  1  would  take  advantage  of  the  boy's 
knowledge ;  and  therefore  gave  him  twelve  and  a  half 
cents  to  stand  by  me,  and  give  me  the  names  of  the 
racers  as  they  passed ;  for  by  this  time  they  were  all 
on  the  ground,  and  following  the  direction  of  the  first. 

"  This  one,"  said  my  Mentor,  as  the  next  approach, 
od,  "name  Flory  Randle ;  she  b'long  to  Mr.  Pet;  but 
2  don't  know  what  hoss  he  daddy,  though." 

"  This  one"  (as  the  next  came  up)  "name  Sir  Wil 
liam  ;  he  come  all  de  way  from  Virginny,  and  I  tink 
dey  say  he  got  by  Virginny  too." 

"  And  this"  (as  the  last  approached)  "  name  'Clipse  ; 
by  jokey,  he  look  to  me  like  he  could  clip  it  too ;  and 
I  be  swinged  if  I  don't  go  my  seb'n-pence  on  him  any 
how." 

Thus  I  learned  that  the  four  horses  which  were  to 
run  were  Bertrand,  Flora  Randolph,  Sir  William,  and 
Eclipse.  At  this  moment,  a  voice  from  the  judges' 
stand  cried,  "  Prepare  your  horses  !"  and  in  an  instant 
the  grooms  were  engaged  in  saddling  the  animals. 
This  preliminary  was  soon  disposed  of,  and  the  own- 
ers  proceeded  to  give  the  riders  their  instructions. 

"  Now,  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Pet,  "  I  know  that  I  have  the 
heels  of  any  horse  on  the  turf,  but  I'm  a  little  afraid 
of  my  bottom  ;  therefore,  save  your  wind  as  much  as 
possible.  Trail  the  leading  horse  upon  a  hard  rein, 
about  half  a  distance  behind,  until  you  come  to  the  last 
half  mile,  and  then  let  Flora  off  at  full  speed.  As  soon 
as  you  pass  the  leading  horse  about  a  length,  bear 
your  rein,  and  don't  come  in  more  than  a  length  ahead." 

"  Sam,"  said  the  owner  of  Sir  William,  "  you've  got 
none  to  fear  but  Bertrand,  and  you've  got  the  bottom 
of  him  ;  therefore  give  him  no  rest  from  the  word  '  go  !' 
unless  you  find  that  your  heels  are  as  good  as  his  ; 
and  if  so,  you  needn't  waste  your  wind.  Feel  Ber 
trand  at  the  first  rise  of  the  course ;  if  he  stands  it 
pretty  well,  try  how  you  can  move  with  him  going 
down  the  hill ;  and  if  you  find  that  you  are  too  hard 
for  him  either  at  rises  or  falls,  pinch  him  hard  at  all  of 
them  places  ;  and  when  you  come  to  the  last  half  mile 


156  THE  run?. 

of  each  heat,  run  his  heart,  liver,  lights,  and  soul-case 
out  of  him." 

"Ned,"  said  the  owner  of  Eclipse,  "you  are  not  to 
run  for  the  first  heat  at  all,  unless  you  find  you  can 
take  it  very  easy.  Let  Sir  William  take  the  first  heat. 
You  can  beat  the  others  when  you  please,  and  William 
can't  stand  a  push  for  two  heats ;  therefore,  just  play 
alongside  of  him  handsomely  for  the  first  three  miles, 
and  at  the  coming  in,  just  drop  in  the  distance  pole. 
The  next  heat  take  the  track,  and  press  him  from  the 
start." 

"  Bill,"  said  the  owner  of  Bertrand,  "do  you  take 
the  track  at  the  start,  and  keep  it,  and  run  only  just  fast 
enough  to  keep  it." 

Here  the  roll  of  the  drum  and  a  cry  from  the  judges' 
stand  put  the  horses  in  motion  for  the  starting-point. 
Over  this  point  I  now  observed  suspended  from  a  pole 
a  beautiful  blue  silk  purse,  spangled  with  silver  and 
embroidered  with  gold,  on  both  sides  of  which  were 
marked  in  golden  charcters,  "  $500  ! !  !" 

It  would  require  a  volume  to  describe  the  scene 
which  now  ensued. 

"  Captain,  do  you  run  Bertrand  for  the  heat  ?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"  Five  hundred  dollars,  Bertrand  against  the  field." 

"Done,  sir." 

"  Major,  will  Eclipse  run  for  the  heat  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  One  hundred  to  fifty  that  Flora  Ran^.jJph  beats 
Eclipse  the  first  heat !" 

"  Done,  sir"—"  Done,  sir"—"  Done,  sir." 

"  I  took  the  bet  first." 

"No,  sir,  I  took  it  first." 

"No  matter,  gentlemen,  I'll  go  you  all  fifty  apiece" 

"  It's  a  bet,  sir"—"  It's  a  bet"—"  A  bet,  sir." 

"  Here,  Uncle  Sam,  hold  dese  trups." 

"  Now  mind  de  bet.  Bob,  he  bet  dat  Flory  Handle 
take  de  fus  heat.  I  bet  he  take  no  heat  at  all." 

"  Yes,  dat  be  de  bet — you  hear  him,  Uncle  Sam  ?" 

"  Tell  him  over  agin,  le'  me  listen." 


THE    TURF. 


15-J 


"  Well,  dis  him  :  If  Flory  take  d?  fus  heat,  Bob 
win;  if  he  take  no  heat  at  all,  I  win." 

"  Berry  well,  I  got  him  now  fass  in  my  head." 

"  Pa,  give  me  a  quarter  to  bet." 

"  What  horse  do  you  want  to  bet  uj  on,  my  son  ?" 

"Eclipse." 

"  Oh  no — there's  a  quarter — bet  it  upon  Bertrand." 

"  Well,  Miss  Flora,  don't  you  wish  to  bet  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  bet  you  a  pair  of  gloves." 

"  Well,  what  horse  will  you  take  ?" 

"Oh,  my  namesake,  of  course." 

"  It's  a  bet ;  you  take  Flora  against  the  field,  oi 
course." 

"  To  be  sure  I  do." 

Thus  it  went ;  men,  women,  and  children,  whites  and 
blacks,  all  betting. 

Such  was  the  bustle,  confusion,  and  uproar  among 
the  men,  that  I  could  hardly  see  or  hear  anything  dis 
tinctly  ;  and  therefore  I  resolved  to  take  my  position 
among  the  carriages,  in  order  to  observe  the  ladies 
under  the  delights  of  the  turf. 

The  signal  was  now  given,  and  off  went  the  horses  ; 
Flora  ahead,  Bertrand  next,  Sir  William  next,  and 
Eclipse  in  the  rear. 

"  Only  look  at  that  rascal,"  said  Mr.  Pet,  as  he 
charged  by  us  at  full  speed,  "  how  he  is  riding.  Hold 
her  in,  you  rascal,  or  I'll  give  you  five  hundred  lashes 
as  soon  as  you  light.  Hold  her  in,  I  tell  you.  you 
abominable  puppy,  or  I'll  cut  your  throat."  Bob  did 
his  best  to  restrain  her,  for  he  bore  upon  the  rein  until 
his  back  came  nearly  in  contact  with  Flora's  ;  but  to 
no  purpose.  Ahead  she  would  go  for  the  first  twc 
miles. 

"  Only  see,  mamma,"  said  Miss  Flora,  "  how  beau 
tifully  Flora  runs  !     Oh,  that  dear  little  rider"  (a  ne 
gro),  "  how  handsomely  he  carries  himself.     I  knew  I 
should  win  my  gloves." 

At  the  completion  of  the  second  mle  Flora  became 
irr>re  manageable,  and  the  other  horses  passed  hnr  in 
their  order.     As  the  last  gained  about  a  length  of  h^r, 
O 


158  THE    TURF. 

"Now,"  said  Pet,  "keep  her  at  that."  The  rider 
straightened  himself  in  the  saddle,  but  the  space  widen, 
ed  perceptibly  between  him  and  Eclipse.  "  Don't  bear 
upon  the  rein  so  hard,"  said  Pet.  "  Let  her  play 
easy."  Bob  slackened  the  rein  ;  but  Flora  seemed 
not  to  improve  her  liberty.  "  Look  how  you're  drop, 
ping  behind,"  continued  Pet.  "  Let  her  out,  I  tell  you !" 
Bob  let  her  out,  but  she  would  not  go  out.  "  Let  her 
out,  I  tell  you,  or  I  will  blow  your  brains  out."  Here 
Bob  gave  her  a  cut.  "  You  infernal  rascal  you,  don't 
give  her  the  whip!  Bring  her  up  to  Eclipse."  Bob 
gave  her  the  lash  again  ;  but  Flora  obstinately  refused 
to  keep  company  with  Eclipse.  "  Very  well,  sir,"  said 
Pet,  "  ride  your  own  way,  and  I'll  whip  mine  when 
you  get  home  ;  I  see  how  it  is."  Bob  seemed  to  hear 
only  the  first  member  of  the  sentence,  and  he  gave  the 
whip  without  mercy. 

"  Why,  Pet,"  said  a  gentleman,  "  what  is  the  mat 
ter  with  Flora  to-day  ?" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  her,  sir  !  Don't  you  see 
that  I  can't  make  Bob  do  anything  I  tell  him  ?  I'll 
learn  him  how  to  take  a  bribe  in  future." 

As  Flora  received  the  twentieth  cut,  she  switched 
her  tail.  •'  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Dimple,  "  I  fear  you've  lost 
your  gloves,  Miss  Flora ;  see,  your  favourite  switches 
her  tail." 

"  Does  Flora  switch  her  tail  ?"  said  Miss  Flora. 
''Mamma,  Mr.  Dimple  says  Flora  switches  her  tail !" 

"  Does  Flora  switch  her  tail  ?"  said  Mrs.  Blue. 

"  Does  Flora  switch  her  tail  ?"  said  Miss  Emma. 
"  Oh,  what  a  pity  !" 

The  horses  preserved  their  order  through  the  heat. 
Flora  was  distanced ;  but  her  rider  maintained  his 
grace  and  dignity  to  the  last,  and  rode  as  if  perfectly 
satisfied  that  every  eye  was  upon  him,  and  that  all  were 
saying,  "  To  be  sure  Flora  is  beaten  ;  but  her  rider  is 
decidedly  the  best  on  the  ground."  In  spite  of  his 
cry  of  "  Clear  the  track !"  however,  the  crowd  closed  in 
between  him  and  the  foremost  horses,  extinguished  his 
graces  from  general  view,  and  forced  him  to  come  in 
in  the  mere  oharac* er  of  a  spectator. 


THE   TURF.  159 

Betwsen  the  first  and  second  heats,  I  saw  the  own- 
ers  of  Sir  William  and  Eclipse  in  a  pleasing  conver. 
sation ;  but  I  did  not  hear  what  they  said. 

After  a  rest  of  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  hor. 
ses  were  again  brought  to  the  starting-point ;  and,  at 
the  tap  of  the  drum,  went  off  with  great  velocity.  Ber 
trand  took  the  lead  as  before,  and  William  pursued  him 
very  closely.  They  kept  within  two  lengths  of  each 
other  for  three  miles  and  a  half,  when  William  locked 
his  adversary,  and  both  riders  commenced  giving  the 
whip  and  spur  without  mercy.  When  they  came  in,  it 
was  evident  to  my  eye  that  Bertrand's  rider  (for  I 
could  not  see  the  horses'  heads)  was  more  than  his 
width  ahead  of  William's  ;  but  the  judges  decided  that 
William  won  the  heat  by  two  inches  and  a  quarter. 
Eclipse  just  saved  his  distance.  At  the  close  of  the 
heat  the  two  former  exhibited  a  pitiable  spectacle. 
There  was  not  a  dry  hair  upon  either  of  them,  and  the 
blood  streamed  from  the  flanks  and  sides  of  both. 

"  Mr.  Dimple,"  said  Miss  Emma,  "  which  horse 
shall  I  bet  on  next  time  ?  Which  seems  the  most  dis. 
tressed '/" 

"  I  declare,  miss,"  said  Dimple,  "  I  don't  know  ;  they 
both  seem  to  be  very  much  distressed  ;  but  I  think 
William  seems  to  be  in  rather  the  worst  plight." 

Between  this  and  the  following  heat,  two  little  boys 
engaged  in  a  fight,  and  not  less  than  fifty  grown  men 
gathered  around  them  to  witness  the  conflict,  with  as 
gieat  an  uproar  as  if  a  town  were  on  fire.  This  fight 
produced  two  more  between  grown  persons ;  one  of 
whom  was  carried  from  the  turf  with  a  fractured  scull, 
as  it  was  thought,  from  the  blow  of  a  stick.  But  none 
of  the  ladies  went  to  the  fights. 

Again  the  horses  were  brought  up  and  put  off.  Ber- 
trand  once  more  led  the  way,  and  Eclipse  followed  close 
at.  his  heels  for  about  a  mile  and  three  quarters,  when 
William  ran  up  under  whip,  nose,  and  tail  to  Bortrand. 
Eclipse  fell  some  distance  behind,  and  continued  so  foi 
a  mile  and  a  half,  when  he  came  up  and  nearly  locked 
Bertrand.  Thus  they  ran  three  fourths  of  the  remain 


\60  THE   TUHF. 

ing  distance.  On  the  last  stretch  they  came  sid,  to 
side,  and  so  contin'j^d  through.  On  th/s  heat  I  con. 
curred  with  the  judges  that  it  was  a  draw  race.  Wil 
Jiam  was  double  distanced. 

Bertrand  and  Eclipse  put  off  upon  the  fourth  heat  : 
Bertrand  still  taking  the  lead  by  about  half  his  length. 
Eclipse  now  pushed  for  the  track  ;  but  Bertrand  main 
tained  it.  For  two  miles  did  the  riders  continue  so  close 
together  that  they  might  have  joined  hands.  They  had 
entered  upon  the  third  mile  in  this  way,  when,  at  the 
first  turn  of  the  course  from  the  judges'  stand,  Eclipse 
fell  and  killed  his  rider.  Bertrand,  being  now  left  with- 
out  a  competitor,  galloped  slowly  round  to  the  goal, 
where,  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  the  pole  which 
held  the  purse  was  bent  down  to  his  rider,  who  dislodged 
it,  and  bore  it  on  high,  backward  and  forward,  in  front 
of  the  booth,  to  the  sound  of  drum,  rife  and  violin. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Blue,  as  her  carriage  wheeled 
off,  "had  it  not  been  for  that  little  accident,  the  sport 
would  have  been  delightful." 

I  left  the  turf  in  company  with  a  large  number  of  gen. 
tlemen,  all  of  whom  concurred  in  the  opinion  that  they 
had  never  witnessed  such  sport  in  all  their  lives. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  General  Grubbs,  "  that 
this  amusement  is  not  more  encouraged  !  We  never 
shall  have  a  fine  breed  of  horses  until  the  turf  is  more 
patronised." 

I  returned  home,  and  had  been  seated  perhaps  an 
hour,  when  Baldwin  entered.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  just  been  favoured  with  a  sight  of  the  contents  of 
that  beautiful  purse  which  Bertand  won  ;  and  what  do 
you  think  it  contained?" 

"  Why,  five  hundred  dollars,  certainly,"  returned  I. 
"  No,"  continued  he,  "  it  contained  two  half  eagles, 
sixteen  dollars  in  silver,  twelve  one  dollar  bills,  and  a 
subscription  paper,  which  the  owner  offered  to  the  lar 
gest  subscriber  on  it  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
and  it  was  refused.  It  is  but  right  to  observe,  however, 
that  the  gentleman  to  whom  the  offer  was  made  assu. 
Hid  the  owner  that  it  was  as  good  as  go 1." 

HALL. 


AN     INTERESTING     INTERVIEW.  161 


AN  INTERESTING  INTERVIEW. 

I  uoi'E  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  drunkenness 
will  be  unknown  in  our  highly-favoured  country.  The 
moral  world  is  rising  in  its  strength  against  the  all-de 
stroying  vice,  and  though  the  monster  still  struggles, 
and  stings,  and  poisons  with  deadly  effect  in  many  parts 
of  our  wide-spread  territory,  it  is  perceptibly  wounded 
and  weakened  ;  and  I  flatter  myself  if  I  should  live  to 
number  ten  years  more,  I  shall  see  it  driven  entirely 
from  the  higher  walks  of  life  at  least,  if  not  from  all 
grades  of  society.  For  the  honour  of  my  contempora 
ries,  I  would  register  none  of  its  crimes  or  its  follies ; 
but,  in  noticing  the  peculiarities  of  the  age  in  which  I 
live,  candour  constrains  me  to  give  this  vice  a  passing 
notice.  The  interview  which  I  am  about  to  present 
to  my  readers  exhibits  it  in  its  mildest  and  most  harm 
less  forms. 

In  the  county  of ,  and  about  five  miles  apart, 

lived  old  Hardy  Slow  and  old  Tobias  Swift.  They 
were  both  industrious,  honest,  sensible  farmers  when 
sober ;  but  they  never  visited  their  county- town  with 
out  getting  drunk  ;  and  then  they  were — precisely  what 
the  following  narrative  makes  them. 

They  both  happened  at  the  Courthouse  on  the  same 
day  when  I  last  saw  them  together  ;  the  former  ac 
companied  by  his  wife,  and  the  latter  by  his  youngest 
son,  a  lad  about  thirteen.  Tobias  was  just  clearly  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  line  which  divides  drunk  from 
sober  ;  but  Hardy  was  "  royally  corned"  (but  not  fall, 
ing)  when  they  met,  about  an  hour  by  sun  in  the  after- 
noon,  near  the  rack  at  which  both  their  horses  were 
hitched. 

They  stopped  about  four  feet  apart,  and  looked  each 
other  full  in  the  face  for  about  half  a  minute  ;  durino 
all  which  time  Toby  sucked  his  teeth,  winked,  ai.  1 
O  2 


162  AN    INTERESTING    INTERVIEW 

made  signs  with  his  shoulders  and  elbows  :o  the  by. 
slanders  that  he  knew  Hardy  was  drunk,  and  was  go- 
ing  to  quiz  him  for  their  amusement.  In  the  mean 
time,  Hardy  looked  at  Tobias,  like  a  polite  man  drop, 
ping  to  sleep,  in  spite  of  himself,  under  a  long  dull 
story. 

At  length  Toby  broke  silence  : 

"  How  goes  it,  uncle  Hardy  V  (winking  to  the  compa 
ny  and  shrugging  his  shoulders.) 

"  Why,  Toby  !  is  that  you  ?  Well — upon  my — why, 
Toby  !  Lord — help — my — soul  and —  Why,  To. 
by  !  what,  in,  the,  worl',  set,  you,  to,  gitt'n,  drunk — 
this,  time  o'  day  ?  Swear,  poin'  blank,  you're  drunk ! 
Why — you — must  be,  an  old,  fool — to,  get,  drunk,  right, 
before,  all  these,  gentlemen — a'ready,  Toby." 

"  Well,  but,  now  you  see"  (winking),  "  uncle  Hardy, 
a  gill-cup  an't  a  quart-pot,  nor  a  quart-pot  an't  a  two- 
gallon  jug ;  and  therefore"  (winking  and  chuckling), 
"  uncle  Hardy,  a  thing  is  a  thing,  turn  it  which  way 
you  will,  it  just  sticks  at  what  it  was  before  you  give  it 
first  ex — ex — ploit." 

"  Well,  the,  Lord,  help,  my —  Why,  Toby  !  what, 
is  the  reas'n,  you,  never,  will,  answer,  me  this,  one — 
circumstance — and,  that,  is — I,  always,  find,  you, 
drunk,  when,  I  come,  here." 

"  Well,  now,  but,  uncle  Hardy,  you  always  know  cir 
cumstances  alter  cases,  as  the  fellow  said ;  and  there 
fore,  if  one  circumstance  alters  another  circumstance 
— how's  your  wife  and  children  ?" 

"  I,  swear,  poin'  blank,  I  sha'n't  tell  you — because, 
you  r'ally,  is,  too  drunk,  to  know,  my  wife,  when,  you, 
meet,  her,  in  the  street,  all,  day,  long,  and,  she'll,  tell, 
you,  the,  very,  same,  thing,  as,  all,  these,  gentlemen, 
can — testimony." 

"  Well,  but  now  you  see,  uncle  Hardy,  thinking's 
one  thing  and  knowing's  another,  as  the  fellow  said  ; 
and  the  proof  o'  the  pudding's  chawin'  the  bag,  as  the 
fellow  said  ;  and  you  see — toll-doll-diddle-de-doll-doll- 
day"  (singing  and  capering),  "  you  think  I  can't  dance  1 
Come,  uncle  Hardy,  let's  dance." 


AN    INTERESTING   INTERVIEW.  163 

"Why,  Toby!  you  —  come — to  this?  I  didn't 
make,  you,  drunk,  did  1 1  You,  an't,  took,  a  drink, 
with,  me,  this,  live,  long,  day — is  you  ?  I,  say,  is  you, 
Toby  1" 

"  No,  uncle  Har— " 

"  Well,  then,  let's  go,  take  a  drink." 

"  Well,  but  you  see,  uncle  Hardy,  drinkin's  Hrink 
in' ;  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there,  as  the  fellow  said. 

"  Come"  (singing)  "all  ye  young  sparkers,  come  listen  to  me, 
And  I'll  sing  you  a  ditti,  of  a  pretti  ladee." 

"  Why,  Toby  !  ha— ha— ha  !  Well,  I  r'ally,  did, 
think,  you,  was,  drunk,  but.  now  I  believe — blast  the 
flies !  I  b'lieve,  they,  jest,  as  li'f  walk,  in  my,  mouth, 
as,  in,  my  nose."  ( Then  looking  with  eyes  half  closed 
at  Toby  for  several  minutes'),  "  Why,  Toby,  you,  spit 
'bacco-spit,  all  over,  your  jacket — and,  that's  jist,  the 
very,  way,  you,  got,  in  your — fix." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Slow  came  up,  and  immediate 
ly  after,  Swift's  son,  William. 

"  Come,"  said  the  good  lady,  "  old  man,  let's  go 
home  ;  it's  getting  late,  and  there's  a  cloud  rising ; 
we'll  get  wet." 

"  Why,  Nancy  !  what  in  the  worl'  has  got  into  you  ! 
Is  you  drunk  too  1  Well,  'pon,  my  word,  and  honour, 
I,  b'lieve,  everybody,  in  this  town,  is,  got  drunk  to-day. 
Why,  Nancy  !  I  never,  did,  see,  you,  in,  that  fix,  be 
fore,  in,  all,  my,  live,  long,  born,  days." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  said  she  ;  "  come,  let's  go 
home.  Don't  you  see  the  rain  coming  up  ?" 

"  Well,  will,  it  rain,  upon,  my,  cornfield,  or  my  cot 
ton-patch  ?  Say,  Nancy  !  which  one,  will  it,  rain  onl 
But,  Lord,  help,  my,  soul,  you  are,  too  drunk,  to  tefl 
Tie,  any,  thing,  about  it.  Don't  my  corn  want  rain, 
VTancy  ?  Now,  jist,  tell  me,  that  ?" 

"Yes  ;  but  let's  go  home." 

"Then,  why,  upon,  the  face,  of  the  earth,  won't  you, 
tt  it,  rain,  then  ?  I,  rather,  it,  should  rain,  than  not." 

"  Come,  old  man,"  said  several  by-standers,  touched 
with  sympathy  for  the  good  lady,  "  come,  get  on  you! 
borse  and  go  home,  and  we  will  help  you." 


164  AN     INTERESTING     INTERVIEW. 

"  Oh  yes,  uncle  Hardy,"  said  Tobias,  affecting  to 
throw  all  humour  aside,  and  to  become  very  sober  all 
at  once,  "  go  home  with  the  old  woman.  Come,  gen 
tlemen,  let's  help  'em  on  their  horses — they're  groggy 
— mighty  groggy.  Come,  old  man,  I'll  help  you"  (stag- 
gering  to  Hardy}. 

"  Jist  look  at  daddy  now  !"  said  Billy  ;  "  he's  going 
to  help  Mr.  Swift,  and  he's  drunk  as  Mr.  Swift  is.  Oh, 
daddy,  come,  let's  go  home,  or  we'll  get  mazin'  wet." 

Toby  stooped  down  to  help  Hardy  on  his  horse  (be 
fore  the  horse  was  taken  from  the  rack),  and  throwing 
his  arm  round  Hardy's  legs,  he  fell  backward,  and  so 
did  Hardy. 

"  Why — Lord,  bless,  my,  soul,"  said  Hardy,  "  I 
b'lieve,  I'm  drunk,  too.  What,  upon  the,  face,  of  the 
earth,  has  got,  into,  all,  of  us,  this  day  !" 

"  Why,  uncle  Hardy,"  said  Toby,  "  you  pull  us  both 
down  together." 

"  The  old  man's  mighty  groggy,"  said  Toby  to  me, 
in  a  half  whisper,  and  with  an  arch  wink  and  smile,  as 
he  rose  up  (I  happening  to  be  next  to  him  at  the  mo 
ment).  "  S'pose  we  help  him  up  and  get  him  oft, 
The  old  woman's  in  for  it  too,"  continued  he,  wink. 
Ing,  nodding,  and  shrugging  up  his  shoulders  very  sig 
nificantly. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  I,  "  the  old  woman  is  perfectly  sober ; 
and  I  never  heard  of  her  tasting  a  drop  in  all  my  life." 

"  Oh,"  said  Toby,  assuming  the  gravity  of  a  parson, 
"  loves  it  mightily,  mightily !  Monstrous  woman  for 
drinking !  at  least  that's  my  opinion.  Monstrous  fine 
woman  though  !  monstrous  fine  !" 

"  Oh,  daddy,  for  the  Lord's  sake  let's  go  home ;  only 
see  what  a  rain  is  coming !"  said  Billy. 

"  Daddy'll  go  presently,  my  son." 

"  Well,  here's  your  horse ;  git  up  and  let's  go, 
Mammy'll  be  sure  to  be  sendin'  for  us." 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  said  Toby,  winking  to  me ; 
"  he's  nothing  but  a  boy  ;  I  wouldn't  take  no  notice  of 
wnat  he  said.  He  wants  me"  (winking  and  smiliip] 
"  to  go  home  with  him  ;  now  you  listen." 


IN   INTERESTING   INTERVIEW.  165 

w  Well,  come,"  said  I  to  uncle  Toby,  "  get  on  your 
{iv/rse,  and  go  home  ;  a  very  heavy  rain  is  coming  up." 

"  I'll  go  presently  ;  but  you  just  listen  to  Bill,"  said 
he  to  me,  winking  and  smiling. 

"  Oh,  daddy,  for  the  Lord's  sake  let's  go  home." 

Toby  smiled  archly  at  me,  and  winked. 

**  Daddy,  are  you  going  home  or  not  ?  Jist  look  at 
the  rain  cornin'." 

Toby  smiled  and  winked. 

"  Well,  I  do  think  a  drunken  man  is  the  biggest  fool 
in  the  county,"  said  Bill,  "  I  don't  care  who  he  is." 

"  Bill !"  said  the  old  man,  very  sternly,  " '  honour 
thy  father  and  mother,'  that — that  the  woman's  seed 
may  bruise  the  serpent's  head." 

"  Well,  daddy,  tell  me  if  you  won't  go  home  !  You 
see  it's  going  to  rain  powerful.  If  you  won't  go,  may 
I  go?" 

"  Bill !  '  Leave  not  thy  father  who  begat  thee ;  for 
thou  art  my  beloved  son  Esau,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased.'  " 

"  Why,  daddy,  it's  dropping  rain  now." 

Here  Bill  was  relieved  from  his  anxiety  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  Aaron,  a  trusty  servant,  whom  Mrs.  Slow 
had  despatched  for  his  master,  to  whose  care  Bill  com 
mitted  him,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

Aaron's  custom  had  long  been  to  pick  up  his  mas 
ter  without  ceremony,  put  him  on  his  horse,  and  beai 
him  away.  So  used  to  this  dealing  had  Toby  been, 
that,  when  he  saw  Aaron,  he  surrendered  at  discretion, 
and  was  soon  on  the  road.  But  as  the  rain  descended 
in  torrents  before  even  Bill  could  have  proceeded  half 
a  mile,  the  whole  of  them  must  have  been  drenched  to 
the  skin. 

As  to  Hardy,  whom  in  the  proper  order  we  ought 
to  have  disposed  of  first,  he  was  put  on  his  horse  by 
main  force,  and  was  led  off  by  his  wife,  to  whom  he 
was  muttering,  as  far  as  I  could  hear  him,  "  Why, 
Nancy !  how,  did,  you,  get,  in,  such  a  fix  ?  You'll, 
fall,  off,  your,  horse,  sure,  as  you're  born,  and  I'll 
liave  to  put  you  up  again."  As  they  were  constrained 


THE   FOX-HUNT. 


to  go  on  a  walk,  they  too  must  have  got  wringing  wez, 
though  they  had  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  start  of  Toby. 

HALL. 


THE  FOX-HUNT. 

I  HAD  often  lead  of  the  fox-chase  and  its  soul-enh 
vening  pleasures  before  I  was  permitted  to  enjoy  them  , 
and,  had  my  reading  upon  this  head  been  confined  to 
Somerville's  Chase  alone,  I  should  have  been  inspired 
with  an  irrepressible  curiosity  to  experience  its  thrill- 
ing  enjoyments.  Listen  how  he  sanctifies  the  sport, 
and  mingles  with  it  all  that  is  gay  and  spirit-s»'«—i<]g  . 

"  But  yet,  alas !  the  wily  fox  remain'd 
A  subtle,  pilfering  foe,  prowling  around 
In  midnight  shades,  and  wakeful  to  destroy. 
In  the  full  fold,  the  poor  defenceless  lamb, 
Seized  by  his  guileful  arts,  with  sweet  warm  blood 
Supplies  a  rich  repast.    The  mournful  ewe, 
Her  dearest  treasure  lost  through  the  dim  night, 
Wanders  perplex'd,  and  darkling  bleats  in  vain, 
While  in  th'  adjacent  bush  poor  Philomel 
(Herself  a  parent  once,  till  wanton  churls 
Despoil'd  her  nest)  joins  in  her  loud  laments, 
With  sweeter  notes  and  more  melodious  wo. 

For  these  nocturnal  thieves,  huntsmen  prepare 
The  sharpest  vengeance.     Oh  !  how  glorious  'tis 
To  right  th'  oppress'd,  and  bring  the  felon  vile 
To  just  disgrace !     Ere  yet  the  morning  peep, 
Or  stars  retire  from  the  first  blush  of  day, 
With  thy  far  echoing  voice  alarm  thy  pack 
And  rouse  thy  bold  compeers.    Then  to  the  copse, 
Thick  with  entangling  grass  and  prickly  furze, 
With  silence  lead  thy  many-colour'd  hounds, 
In  all  their  beauty's  pride.     See !  how  they  rang« 
Dispersed,  how  busily  this  way  and  that 
They  cross,  examining  with  curious  nose 
Each  likely  haunt.     Hark !  on  the  drag  I  hear 
Their  doubtful  notes,  preluding  to  the  cry 
More  nobly  full,  and  swell'd  with  every  mouth. 


Heavens !  what  melodious  strains !  how  beat  our  hearts 
Big  with  tumultuous  joy !  the  loaded  gales 


THE    FOX-HUNT.  )  ft* 

Breathe  harmony  ;  and  as  the  tempest  drives 
From  wood  to  wood,  through  every  dark  recess, 
The  forest  thunders  and  the  mountains  shake 
******** 

*****        He  breaks  away. 

Shrill  horns  proclaim  his  flight.     Each  straggling  l.ourxi 

Strains  o'er  the  lawn  to  reach  the  distant  pack  : 

'Tis  triumph  all  and  joy.    Now,  my  brave  youths, 

jYou>  give  a  loose  to  the  clean,  generous  steed  ; 

flourish  the  whip,  nor  spare  the  galling  spur  ; 

But  in  the  madness  of  delight  forget 

Your  fears.     For  o'er  the  rocky  hills  we  range, 

And  dangerous  our  course;  but  in  the  brave 

True  courage  never  fails.    In  vain  the  stream 

In  foaming  eddies  whirls ;  in  vain  the  ditch 

Wide-gaping  threatens  death.    The  craggy  steep, 

Where  the  poor  dizzy  shepherd  crawls  with  care, 

And  clings  to  every  twig,  gives  us  no  pain ; 

But  down  we  sweep,  as  stoops  the  falcon  bold 

To  pounce  his  prey."        *        *        *        * 

Filled  with  such  ideas  as  these  lines  are  calculated 
to  inspire  (and  long  as  is  the  extract,  it  does  but  half 
justice  to  the  poet,  whatever  we  may  think  of  his  sub 
ject),  it  was  with  kindling  enthusiasm  that  I  met  the 
question  from  my  old  friend  Dause,  on  a  clear,  chill 
December's  evening, 

"  Will  you  not  join  us  in  a  fox-chase  to-morrow  ?" 

"That  I  will,"  replied  I,  "with  pleasure." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  a  fox-chase  ?"  continued  he. 

"  Never,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  I 
should  be  delighted  with  it." 

"  Oh,  it's  the  finest  sport  in  the  world,  with  a  full 
pack !  and  we  shall  have  a  splendid  pack,  to-morrow. 
Major  Crocket  is  coming  in  with  his  hounds,  and 
George  Hurt  is  to  bring  in  his,  and  all  unite  with  Cap- 
tain  Reid's  here  ;  and  we  shall  have  a  pack  of  twenty. 
two  or  three.  We  shall  have  glorious  sport ;  you 
must  not  fail  to  join  us." 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  said  I ;  "  I  shall  be  among  the 
first  on  the  ground." 

I  went  home  (no  matter  where),  and  hastened  to 
bed  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual,  that  I  misfit  be  the» 
surer  to  rise  by  times  in  the  morning.  But,  so  bright 
was  the  anticipation  of  the  coming  joys,  that  il  was 
•ong  before  I  could  compose  myself  to  sleep ;  and 


168  THE   FOX-HUNT. 

when  1  did,  it  was  rather  the  semi-sleep  of  vigilance 
than  the  sound  sleep  of  rest.  It  was  sufficient,  how. 
ever,  to  beguile  the  intervening  hours  ;  and  they  seem 
ed  but  few,  before  the  long-drawn  notes  of  Crocket's 
horn  roused  me  from  my  slumbers.  I  sprang  from 
my  bed,  and,  without  waiting  to  throw  over  me  a  stitch 
of  clothing  (though  the  weather  was  extremely  cold), 
I  seized  my  ram's-horn,  hoisted  a  window,  and  blew  a 
blast  which,  if  it  had  had  fair  play,  would  have  waked 
every  hound  within  five  miles  round.  But  it  had  not 
fair  play ;  for,  partly  from  hurry,  and  partly  from  my 
indisposition  to  thrust  my  exposed  body  into  the  open 
air,  I  just  gave  the  mouth  of  my  horn  projection  enough 
to  throw  half  its  voice  out  and  half  inside  the  house. 
The  first  half  did  no  great  things  ;  but  the  last  half 
did  wonders.  Bursting  upon  the  unsuspecting  family 
at  that  still  hour,  it  created  a  sensation  which  no  one 
can  understand  who  was  not  at  the  falling  of  the  walls 
of  Jericho.  The  house  trembled,  the  glasses  rattled, 
the  women  started,  and  the  children  screamed. 

"  What's  that !"  exclaimed  the  mistress  of  the  house- 
hold. 

"  Mr.  Hall  is  going  a  fox-hunting,"  said  her  husband. 

"  Well,  I  wish  he'd  blow  for  his  foxes  out  of  the 
house.  I  can't  see  what  any  man  of  common  sense 
wants  to  be  gitting  up  this  time  of  night  for,  in  such 
cold  weather,  just  to  hear  dogs  run  a  fox." 

It  struck  me  there  was  a  good  deal  of  sound  philos- 
ophy  in  the  good  lady's  remarks  ;  but  she  was  a  wom 
an,  and  she  had  never  read  Somerville. 

I  dressed  myself,  walked  out,  waked  my  servant,  and 
ordered  my  horse.  Truly  it  was  a  lovely  morning  for 
the  season  of  the  year  :  December  never  ushered  in 
one  more  lovely.  Like  a  sheet  of  snow  the  frost  over 
spread  the  earth  !  Not  a  breath  was  stirring.  The 
coming  huntsman  had  sounded  his  horn  upoc  a  distant 
hill,  and  its  unrepcated  notes  had  died  away.  A  cloud 
less  sky  o'erspread  the  earth,  as  rich  in  beauty  as  ever 
won  the  gaze  of  mortal.  Upon  the  western  verge,  in 
all  his  martial  glory,  stood  Orion  ;  his  burnished  epau- 


THE    FOX-HUNT.  169 

iCts  and  spangled  sash  with  unusual  brightness  glow- 
ing.  Capella  glittered  brighter  still,  and  Castor,  Pro. 
cyon,  and  Arcturus  rivalled  her  in  lustre.  But  Sir- 
ius  reigned  the  monarch  of  the  starry  host ;  and  count 
less  myriad  j  of  lesser  lights  glowed,  and  sparkled,  and 
twinkled  o'er  all  the  wide-spread  canopy. 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  I,  "  how  rich,  how  beautiful,  how 
glorious  the  firmament !  See  !  yonder  is  Bootes  in  the 
chase  !  His  Chara  and  Asterion  drive  on  the  lusty 
Bear !  who  shall  condemn  the  chase,  when  its  pleas- 
ures  are  written  in  characters  of  deathless  fire  upon 
the  face  of  the  heavens !" 

I  was  lost  in  admiration  of  the  splendours  which 
surrounded  me,  when  another  sound  of  the  major's 
horn  informed  me  that  he  was  upon  the  confines  of 
the  village  ;  and,  at  the  same  instant,  my  servant  an- 
nounced  that  my  horse  was  in  waiting.  As  I  ap 
proached  him  for  the  purpose  of  mounting, 

"  Master,"  said  ho,  "  you  gwine  fox-huntin'  on  da 
hoss  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  promptly  :  "  why  ?" 

"Eh-eh,"  rejoined  he,  with  a  titter. 

"  Why,  what  is  it  amuses  you  so,  Isaac  ?" 

"  Bess  de  Lord  !  Smooth-tooth  wa'nt  never  made  for 
fox-huntin',  I  know.  He  too  lazy,  bess  de  Lord. 
Time  de  houn'  give  one  squall,  dey  done  lefF  Smooth, 
tooth  clean  outen  sight  an'  hearin'." 

"  Oh,  I  presume  not,  Isaac,"  said  I.  "  I  shall  not 
Attempt  to  keep  up  with  the  hounds  :  I  shall  just  keep 
in  full  hearing  of  them  by  cutting  across  and  heading 
them  " 

"  Eh-eh !  Fox  run  twice  round  a  field  'fore  Smooth. 
tooth  cut  across  him,  1  know  :  bess  de  Lord." 

One  would  suppose  that  Isaac's  hint  would  have  re- 
minded  me  to  take  a  whip  or  spur,  or  both,  along  with 
me  ;  but  it  did  not. 

Crocket's  horn  was  answered  by  several  from  the 

neighbouring  hills;   and,  before  I  had  proceeded  the 

eighth  of  a  mile  towards  the  point  of  rendezvous,  a 

loud  chorus  of  horns  and  beagles  announced  that  all 

P 


170  THE    FOX-HUNT. 

were  assembled  but  myself.  I  raised  my  ram's-horn 
and  blew  u  more  propitious  blast  than  my  first,  in  to 
ken  that  I  was  on  my  way.  My  horse,  as  the  reader 
has  perhaps  conjectured,  from  the  colloquy  just  repeat, 
ed,  was  not  Somerville's  "clean,  generous  steed  ;"  but 
he  was  a  horse  of  uncommon  gravity  and  circumspec 
tion.  I  ga;-e  him  the  name  of  Smooth-tooth  simply  be- 
cause,  when  he  became  my  property,  the  faces  of  his 
teeth  were  generally  worn  smooth.  Though  he  waa 
kind  and  accommodating  enough  in  all  matters  of  busi. 
ness,  he  had  an  utter  aversion  to  everything  like  levity, 
and  to  all  rambles  which  seemed  to  have  no  definite 
object.  Age  had  done  much,  doubtless,  in  sobering 
Smooth-tooth's  temper ;  but  infirmity  had  conspired 
with  age  to  produce  this  effect ;  for  he  was  most  lam 
entably  deaf:  so  that  the  common  remark  of  our 
state  in  relation  to  aged  horses,  "  he  has  heard  it 
thunder  too  often,"  would  by  no  means  have  applied 
to  Smooth-tooth  ;  for,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  he 
had  not  heard  it  thunder  for  five  years  at  least. 

I  bent  my  course  towards  the  village,  and  as  Smooth- 
tooth  was  wholly  unconscious  of  the  uproar  there,  he 
set  out,  as  usual,  upon  a  gentle  pace.  By  a  diligent 
applicatioti  of  heels,  I  signified  to  him  that  I  looked 
for  something  more  sprightly  upon  this  occasion. 
Smooth-tooth  took  the  hint,  and  mended  his  pace ;  but 
I  informed  him,  as  before,  that  this  would  not  do.  He 
then  paced  brisker  still  ;  but  this  did  not  abate  my 
rigour.  He  then  paced  to  the  top  of  his  speed,  and 
finding  me  still  unsatisfied,  he  struck,  most  reluctantly. 
into  a  lazy  canter.  This  reduced  my  beats  from  tri 
ple  to  common  time,  but  did  not  bring  them  to  a  full 
pause.  At  the  end  of  five  long,  awkward,  reluctant 
lopes,  Smooth-tooth  stopped  with  a  demi-semiquaver 
rest,  and  wheeled  at  the  same  instant  to  go  home,  in 
utter  disgust ;  for  he  seemed  now  to  have  satisfied 
himself  that  I  had  taken  leave  of  my  senses,  and  that 
it  was  high  time  for  him  to  "  throw  himself  upon  his 
reserved  rights."  As  I  always  entertained  a  high 
respect  for  these,  I  accommodated  myself  to  his  views, 


THE    FOX-HUNT  l/i 

after  having  discovered  that  he  was  not  to  be  forced 
out  of  them.  There  was,  howe\er,  some  policy  mixed 
with  my  clemency  ;  for,  slowly  as  Smooth-,  'oth  mo- 
ved  in  his  master  effort,  he  waked  up  an  artificial 
breeze,  which  seemed  to  search  the  very  cavities  of. 
my  bones,  and  which  already  produced  some  unac 
knowledged  yearnings  for  the  comfortable  bed  which  I 
had  deserted. 

When  I  reached  the  village  I  found  all  the  huntsmen 
collected ;  and  after  a  little  delay,  occasioned  by  a 
dog-fight,  or,  rather,  a  fight  of  one  dog  against  all  the 
rest  (for  hounds,  like  the  wily  politicians  of  the  pres 
ent  day,  all  jump  on  the  undermost),  we  moved  for- 
ward  to  the  hunting  ground.  This  lay  three  miles 
from  the  village;  and,  could  anything  have  enlivened 
the  jaunt,  my  company  would,  for  it  consisted  of  a 
merry  group  of  every  variety  of  disposition.  But  a 
freezing  man  cannot  be  lively ;  and,  consequently,  I 
was  not. 

Our  pack  consisted  of  eighteen  or  twenty  hounds  ; 
but  there  were  but  two  of  them  which  could  be  relied 
on  with  confidence :  George  Hurt's  Louder,  and  Cap 
tain  Reid's  Rome.  With  these  1  was  well  acquainted, 
having  often  been  with  them  in  the  deer  and  rabbit 
hunt.  Could  I  say,  like  Horace,  "  exigi  monumentum 
are  perennius"  they  should  be  immortalized  ;  for  bet 
ter  dogs  never  mingled  in  the  chase.  They  knew  per. 
fectly  well,  from  the  hour  of  the  hunt  and  the  equip 
ments  of  the  huntsmen,  the  game  of  whicn  they  were 
in  pursuit ;  and  no  other  would  they  notice. 

Capt.  Reid's  Music  was  said  to  be  remarkably 
"  cold  ;"  but  her  veracity  was  questionable.  Hex 
ambition  never  aimed  at  anything  higher  than  find, 
ing  the  track  for  fleeter-footed  hounds.  When  the 
game  was  up,  she  soon  "  knocked  out,"  and  went  in 
quest  of  cold  trails ;  why  or  wherefore,  no  one  could 
tell,  unless  it  was  that  she  had  the  common  fault  of 
those  who  possess  peculiar  accomplishments.  Her 
habit  was  to  get  a  trail,  and,  if  she  could  not  lead  off 
on  it  readily,  to  "  open"  by  the  half  hour  upon  so  much 
of  it  as  lay  within  the  compass  of  three  rods  square. 


172  THE  FOX-HUNT. 

We  had  proceeded  about  two  miles  on  our  way,  when, 
in  a  washed  field  to  our  right,  Music  opened. 

"  What  dog's  tha  .  ?"  inquired  several  voices  at  once. 

"  It's  Music,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  she's  the  coldest 
hound  of  the  pack." 

The  majority  were  for  moving  on,  regardless  of  Mu 
sic's  cry  ;  but,  in  courtesy  to  the  captain,  who  had  more 
confidence  in  her  than  the  rest  of  us,  we  agreed  "  to 
wait  on  her  a  little." 

"  Speak  to  him,  Music  !"  said  the  captain. 

Music  opened  again. 

"  Try  for  him,  Music  !" 

Music  opened  again. 

"  Let's  go  to  her,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  there's  not 
much  confidence  to  be  placed  in  her,  but  it  may  be  a 
fox." 

We  went,  and,  as  soon  as  Music  saw  us,  she  seemed 
highly  delighted  at  our  attentions  ;  ran  into  a  little  gul 
ly  ;  put  her  nose  to  the  ground  ;  seemed  in  doubt ; 
rooted  in  the  dirt  a  little  way  ;  then  raised  her  head, 
paused  a  second,  and  trotted  round  a  circle  of  ten  yards' 
circumference,  opening  all  the  time  as  if  the  whole  ho 
rizon  were  lined  with  foxes  ;  that  is,  as  though  there 
were  an  abundance  of  foxes  about,  but  they  were  a 
long  way  off. 

"  Try  for  him  again,  Music  !"  said  the  captain.  Mu 
sic  fidgeted  about  with  great  animation,  shook  her  tail 
spiritedly,  and,  after  taking  a  sweep  of  sixty  feet,  re 
turned  to  the  gully,  and  did  as  before.  . 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  too  cold,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Colonel  Peyton,  waggishly,  "  let's 
wait  on  her.  'Bundance  o'  foxes  in  that  gully  ;  only 
give  Music  time,  and  she'll  fill  it  full  o'  dead  foxes  be 
fore  sunrise." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Stewart  Andrews,  in  a  long,  drawl, 
ing,  dry  way,  "  that  Music  has  got  upon  a  '  Miss  Mary 
Ann'  that  went  along  there  last  winter." 

The  reader  must  here  be  informed,  that  when  I  went 
tr.to  the  neighbourhood  of  which  I  have  been  speaking, 
the  common  appellation  of  the  rabbit  was  "  Molly  Cot- 


THE    FOX-HUNT.  J73 

on-tail,"  as  it  still  is  elsewhere  in  Georgia  ;  but,  as  I 
thought  this  inelegant,  if  not  vulgar,  I  prevailed  upon 
my  fellow-huntsmen  to  exchange  it  for  a  more  classic 
term,  which  would  preserve  the  sense,  without  offend 
ing  the  most  squeamish  delicacy.  At  my  suggestion, 
therefore,  it  was  called  the  "  Mary  Cotton-tail,"  and 
afterward,  by  farther  refinement,  "  Miss  Mary  Ann 
Cotton-tail."  But  to  return  : 

We  were  just  about  taking  leave  of  Music,  when  a 
young,  awkward,  overgrown  hound  trotted  up  to  her 
assistance.  He  arrived  just  as  Music  had  paid  a  third 
visit  to  the  track  in  the  gully,  and,  as  soon  as  she  left 
it,  he  put  his  nose  to  the  spot,  snuffed  a  little,  and  then 
raised  one  foot,  and  with  it  kindly  scratched  out  the 
tantalizing  track.  While  I  sat  "  waiting  upon"  Miss 
Music,  my  freezing  limbs  forced  me  into  this  train  of 
reflection  :  "  How  could  I  have  so  far  taken  leave  ot 
my  senses  as  to  promise  myself  any  pleasure  from  such 
a  jaunt  as  this  !  It  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  we 
shall  start  a  fox ;  and  if  we  should,  what  are  the  cries 
of  twenty  hounds  to  three  or  four  hour's  exposure,  with, 
out  even  an  overcoat,  upon  such  a  piercing  morning  as 
this  !  And  wherein  will  the  cry  differ  from  that  of  the 
same  pack  in  pursuit  of  a  rabbit  on  a  fine  sunny  day. 
And  why  seek  amusement  in  the  tortures  of  a  poor 
unoffending  animal !  In  this  country,  at  least,  I  never 
heard  of  a  single  loss  from  a  farmyard  which  could  be 
fairly  traced  to  the  fox  ;  not  even  of  a  goose,  much  less 
of  a  lamb.  My  rest  broken,  my  health  jeoparded,  and 
my  immediate  sufferings  excruciating  !  Folly !  mad- 
ness  in  the  extreme  !" 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  before  groups  of  from 
two  to  five  hounds  could  be  heard  in  all  directions  in 
pursuit  of  Miss  Mary  Ann's.  Hitherto  my  hopes  had 
been  buoyed  up  by  the  number  of  hounds ;  for  I  natu 
rally  concluded  that  our  chances  of  success  increased 
with  their  number :  but  now  I  plainly  saw  that  our 
only  hope  was  upon  Rome  and  Louder,  for  all  the 
others  had  resigned  themselves  unreservedly  to  Mary 
Ann's 

P2 


174  THE    FOX-HUNT. 

We  were  moving  on  upon  a  skirt  of  woods,  entire 
ly  surrounded  by  fields,  when,  from  the  opposite  side 
of  h,  the  well-known  voice  of  the  deep  mouthed  Louder 
fell  joyously  upon  our  ears.  "  Hark  !"  cried  all  of  us 
at  once.  In  an  instant  the  clear,  shrill  note  of  Rome 
confirmed  his  companion's  report ;  for  they  always 
hunted  together,  and  each  obeyed  the  call  of  the  other 
in  a  moment.  Then  both  together,  then  alternately  in 
quick  succession,  they  repeated  their  assurances.  In 
an  instant,  all  the  various  groups  of  hounds  of  which 
we  were  speaking  were  hushed,  and  from  every  direc 
tion  they  could  be  seen  dashing  to  the  two  favourites. 
Such  is  the  force  of  truth  even  with  dumb  brutes. 

A  loud  scream  of  exultation  and  encouragement 
broke  involuntarily  from  all  the  huntsmen  (not  except 
ing  myself),  and  each  dashed  for  the  hounds  as  the 
impulse  of  the  moment  urged  him  on.  Some  skirted 
the  forest  in  one  way,  some  in  another ;  but  Crocket 
plunged  directly  through  it  at  half  speed;  how,  Heav 
en  only  knows  ;  but  I  had  hardly  missed  him  before  I 
heard  him  encouraging  the  dogs  in  his  presence.  I 
took  a  moment  for  reflection,  which,  of  course,  I  was 
permitted  to  enjoy  alone.  My  conclusion  was,  that  if 
Crocket  could  gallop  through  the  wood  with  safety,  I 
certainly  could  pace  through  it  without  injury ;  and 
as  this  was  much  the  nearest  way,  I  determined  to  at 
tempt  it.  My  resolves  were  no  sooner  formed  than 
they  were  communicated  to  Smooth-tooth,  who  enter 
ed  the  wood  with  his  accustomed  prudence  and  cir 
cumspection. 

The  first  streaks  of  day  had  now  appeared  ;  but 
they  were  entirely  useless  to  me  after  I  had  entered  the 
forest.  I  had  proceeded  about  sixty  paces,  when  a  limb 
of  some  kind  (I  know  not  what)  fetched  me  a  wipe  across 
the  face  that  set  the  principles  of  philosophy  at  defi 
ance  ;  for  it  was  certainly  four  times  as  severe  as 
Smooth-tooth's  momentum  would  have  justified  upon 
any  known  law  of  projectiles  :  at  least  it  seemed  so  to 
me  ;  for  it  came  like  a  flash  of  lightning  over  the  icing 
of  xny  face  ;  giving  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  a 


THE    FOX-HUNT.  175 

wnsible  idea  of  the  Georgia  expression  "  feeling  streak 
ed  ;"  for  my  face  actually  felt  as  though  ix  was  cover 
cd  with  streaks  of  fire  and  streaks  of  ice. 

Twenty  paces  more  had  like  to  have  wound  up  my 
hunt  with  the  felon's  death  ;  for,  as  I  was  moving  on 
with  all  due  caution  and  sobriety,  a  little,  supple,  in 
frangible  grape-vine,  attached  to  two  slim,  elastic  sap 
lings,  between  which  I  passed,  threw  one  of  its  festoons 
gracefully  around  my  neck,  and  politely  informed  me 
that  I  must  stop  or  be  hung.  I  communicated  this  in- 
telligence  to  Smooth-tooth  without  loss  of  time  ;  and, 
as  stopping  was  his  delight,  he,  of  course,  obeyed  the 
mandate  as  quick  as  he  could.  Prompt  as  was  his  obe 
dience,  it  was  too  slow  for  the  petulant  little  grape 
vine  ;  for,  though  it  consented  to  spare  my  life,  it  dis 
missed  me  with  most  ungentlemanly  rudeness.  It  just 
took  my  profile  from  my  neck  upward,  passing  over  all 
the  turns  and  angles  of  my  face  with  a  rigour  that  Soc 
rates  himself  could  not  have  borne  with  patience.  It 
returned  from  its  delineation  like  a  bowstring,  sending 
my  hat  aloft,  I  know  not  how  high  ;  but,  judging  from 
the  time  which  intervened  between  its  departure  from 
my  head  and  its  report  on  the  ground,  I  should  say 
nearly  to  the  height  of  the  wedded  saplings.  Never 
but  once  before  had  I  such  a  lively  sense  of  the  value 
of  a  hat  in  cold  weather  as  I  now  had.  The  chills  ran 
from  my  head  to  my  toes  like  ague-fits  ;  and  these  I 
nad  to  bear  for  the  space  of  a  minute  or  two,  before  I 
could  feel  out  my  hat.  At  last  I  recovered  it  and  re 
mounted.  "  How  was  it  possible,"  exclaimed  I,  "  for 
Crocket  to  get  through  this  wood  at  half  speed  !  It 
must  be  true,  that  'fortunafavelfortibus?  and  I'll  e'en 
risk  a  little  upon  the  strength  of  the  maxim."  Switch 
es  were  convenient,  as  my  misfortunes  have  pro 
ved  ;  and,  having  supplied  myself  with  one,  I  drew  my 
hat  over  my  eyes,  brought  my  head  down  close  to 
Smooth-tooth's  withers,  hugged  him  tight  with  my  legs, 
and  put  whip  to  him  manfully.  Smooth-tooth  now  felt 
his  dignity  assailed,  and  he  put  off  at  a  respectable 
fox-hunting  gait.  This  soon  brought  me  to  the  edge  ol 


176  THE    FOX-HUNT. 

the  old  field,  with  no  other  accident  than  a  smart  blow 
from  a  sapling  upon  my  right  knee,  which,  though  il 
nearly  unhorsed  me,  did  me  no  serious  injury. 

Here  I  found  all  my  companions  reassembled. 
While  the  drag  lay  within  the  frost-covered  field,  the 
dogs  carried  it  briskly ;  but,  as  soon  as  it  entered  the 
wood,  they  were  at  fault.  In  this  situation  they  were 
when  I  joined  the  huntsmen.  It  was  long  before  we 
had  any  encouragement  to  hope  that  they  would  ever 
take  it  beyond  the  margin  of  the  field ;  occasionally 
however,  and  at  painful  intervals,  the  two  favourites 
would  bid  us  not  to  despair.  Crocket  and  three  or 
four  of  the  party  remained  with  and  encouraged  the 
hounds  ;  while  Andrews,  Marden,  and  myself  adjourn 
ed  to  a  narrow  lane  to  enjoy  the  comforts  of  the  risen 
sun.  The  sluggish  trail  allowed  us  an  hour's  basking  ; 
which  so  far  relaxed  my  rigid  members  as  to  prepare 
me  for  enjoying  Marden's  amusing  storico  and  Stew 
art's  dry  humour.  While  we  were  thus  engaged,  and 
after  we  had  relinquished  all  hope  of  a  chase  for  that 
morning  at  least,  the  notes  of  the  two  favourites  be 
came  more  and  more  frequent.  Soon  a  third  and 
fourth  voice  joined  them,  and  the  chorus  swelled  and 
varied  with  every  second,  until  eight  in  the  morning, 
when  the  whole  pack  broke  in  full  cry.  Reynard  was 
up,  and  twenty  foes  in  hot  pursuit. 

How  or  why  I  am  unable  to  tell,  but  truth  constrains 
me  to  say,  that  for  some  moments  I  was  enraptured 
with  the  sport.  The  fox  obliqued  towards  us,  and  en 
tered  a  field  of  which  our  position  commanded  a  full 
view.  He  must  have  left  his  covert  with  reluctance, 
for  he  was  not  more  than  a  hundred  paces  ahead  of  the 
hounds  when  he  entered  the  field.  First  of  the  pack, 
and  side  by  side,  the  heroes  of  the  clamorous  band 
rose  the  fence.  Then  followed,  in  thick  array,  the 
whole  troop  ;  and  close  on  their  rear,  Crocket  burst 
through  the  copsewood  and  charged  the  fence  without 
a  pause.  Around  me,  in  every  direction,  I  could  see 
the  huntsmen  sweeping  to  the  choir  ;  and  as,  emerging 
from  the  forests  or  gaining  the  heights  around,  they 


THE   FOX-HUNT.  177 

caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  gallant  pack,  they  raised 
a  shout  which  none  but  the  overcharged  heart  can  give 
and  none  but  the  lifeless  heart  receive  unmoved.  1 
was  soon  deserted  as  before ;  but,  partly  from  the  ir» 
spiration  of  my  recent  experiment,  I  plied  Smooth- 
tooth  with  the  whip  most  astonishingly,  and  put  off  in 
pursuit  of  the  hounds  in  handsome  style,  via  the  lane 
which  happened  to  have  exactly  the  curvature  which 
I  desired. 

The  fox  had  hardly  left  the  field  through  which  my 
eye  followed  him,  before,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  voice  ol 
every  hound  hushed.  They  were  completely  at  fault ; 
and  thus  I  found  them  when  I  once  more  joined  my 
company.  They  "  knocked  out,"  as  the  saying  is, 
near  to  the  corner  of  'Squire  Snibby's  field,  which  lay 
contiguous  to  the  first  which  they  entered.  Dogs  and 
men  here  toiled  assiduously  to  take  the  trail  away, 
but  in  vain.  At  length  Crocket  suspected  Reynard  of 
a  trick  :  he  conjectured  that  the  cunning  rogue  had  as 
cended  the  squire's  fence,  and  followed  it  some  distance 
before  he  alighted.  And  so  it  proved  to  be ;  for,  ta 
king  some  of  the  dogs  with  him  along  the  fence  side, 
Crocket  introduced  them  again  to  the  trail,  at  the  dis 
tance  of  full  three  hundred  yards  from  the  point  at 
which  they  lost  it.  The  cry  was  now  renewed  wiih 
all  its  former  spirit.  The  fox,  huntsmen,  and  hounds 
took  to  the  right ;  but,  as  fields  lay  in  that  direction,  I 
concluded  that  he  would  soon  turn  and  follow  the  belt 
of  woodland  in  the  opposite  direction  ;  I  therefore  took 
to  the  left  by  a  pretty  little  path,  which  might  possibly 
have  exerted  some  influence  upon  my  determination. 
I  had  not  proceeded  far  before  I  encountered  a  large 
log  lying  directly  across  my  path.  Here  I  resolved  to 
experiment  a  little,  unobserved,  upon  Smooth-tooth's 
agility.  "If,"  said  I,  "  he  clears  that  log  in  handsome 
style,  I'll  charge  the  first  (low)  fence  that  intercepts 
my  pursuit."  Accordingly,  I  put  whip  and  heels  to 
Smooth-tooth,  who  neared  it  elegantly ;  but,  as  soon 
as  he  came  within  jumping  distance,  he  stopped  with  a 
suddenness  and  self-compcsure  which  plainly  signified 


*78  THE    FOX-HUNT. 

that  he  expected  me  to  let  it  down  for  him.  The  con 
sequence  was,  that  I  was  very  near  being  laid  across 
•.he  log  for  my  pains.  I  now  became  testy,  and  resolv 
ed  that,  as  he  would  not  "  run  and  jump"  it,  he  should 
"  stand  and  jump"  it.  I  therefore  brought  him  up  to 
it,  and  commenced  the  old  discipline.  After  propo 
sing  to  go  round  it  either  way  without  my  approba 
tion,  he  at  length  raised  his  fore  feet,  and  threw  them 
lazily  over  the  log,  coming  down  upon  them  as  the 
white  bear  does  in  breaking  ice,  and  stopped  right 
astride  of  the  log.  I  was  now  prompted  by  curiosity 
to  see,  if  left  to  himself,  whether  he  would  stand  there 
Or  go  on ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  own  free 
will  led  him  to  neither  alternative  :  for  he  was  in  the 
very  act  of  drawing  his  fore  feet  back,  with  a  kind  of 
fall-down  motion,  when  I  gave  him  the  whip,  and  for 
ced  him  to  drag,  rather  than  lift,  his  hind  feet  over. 

This  feat  performed,  I  moved  on  about  two  hundred 
yards,  when,  as  I  had  anticipated,  I  heard  the  hounds 
coming  directly  towards  me.  I  stopped,  and  in  a  min 
ute's  time  Reynard  crossed  the  path  within  thirty  steps 
of  me.  Then  came  the  dogs  in  the  order  in  which  they 
entered  the  field ;  and  hard  upon  them  came  Crocket 
upon  his  foaming  steed. 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?"  exclaimed  he,  finding  me  near 
the  trail. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  distinctly." 

"  How  was  his  tail  ?" 

"I  didn't  notice  particularly,  but  sticking  to  him,  I 
*>elieve." 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !"  said  Crocket ;  "  was  his  brush  up 
or  down?" 

"  Neither,"  said  I ;  "he  brushed  right  across." 

Hftre  the  major  uttered  something  harsh,  and  dashed 
on.  I  afterward  learned  that  experienced  fox-hunters 
know  the  extent  of  his  exhaustion  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  carries  his  tail. 

Having  reasoned  out  the  fox's  monument  this  time 
successfully,  I  concluded  I  could  do  the  like  again  :  1 
therefore  reasoned  that,  after  rambling  about  a  shor1 


THE    WAX-WORKS.  179 

time,  he  would  seek  the  neighbourhood  of  his  burrow 
Accordingly,  I  paced  back  (going  round  the  log  this 
time)  to  a  position  where  I  might  intercept  him.  Here 
(  remained  about  an  hour,  without  hearing  man,  horse, 
or  dog  :  and  then  I  paced  home,  where  I  arrived  at 
eleven  o'clock,  perfectly  satisfied  with  fox-hunting. 

When  my  companions  returned,  they  reported  thit, 
Ive  miles  from  where  I  was  waiting  for  the  fox,  and 
seven  from  the  village,  at  about  two  o'clock  P.M., 
right  in  the  big  road,  near  Richland  Creek,  the  dogs 
"  knocked  out,"  and  could  never  be  knocked  in  again. 

But  they  brought  home  a  rich  fund  of  anecdote  from 
the  chase,  which  served  to  enliven  many  an  idle  hour 
afterward  ;  I  reserved  mine  to  the  present  moment, 
to  enliven  the  family  fireside  on  these  cold  winter's 
evenings. 

HALL. 


THE  WAX. WORKS. 

IN  the  city  of resided  once  a  band  of  gay 

spirits,  who,  though  they  differed  from  each  other  in 
some  respects,  were  all  alike  in  this,  that  they  were 
fond  of  fun. 

Billy  Grossly  was  an  odd  compound  of  grave  and 
lumorous.  He  seldom  projected  a  scheme  of  amuse- 
ment,  but  never  failed  to  take  part  in  it  when  it  was 
set  on  foot  by  others.  Why,  it  was  not  easy  to  tell ; 
for,  if  he  enjoyed  the  most  amusing  pastime  at  all,  his 
enjoyment  was  all  inward ;  for  he  rarely  laughed,  or 
gave  any  other  visible  sign  of  lively  pleasure. 

Jack  Clomes  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  fun.  It 
was  his  meat  and  his  drink  :  he  could  no  more  live 
without  it,  than  he  could  live  without  his  ordinary  diet. 
Withal,  Jack  had  a  wonderful  talent  for  manufacturing 
bod  for  his  prevailing  appetite.  Indeed,  his  fault  was, 


180  THE    WAX-WORKS. 

that  he  never  could  be  got  to  perform  his  pirt  in  a  hu- 
morons  exhibition,  which  required  concert  with  others, 
without  digressing  from  the  main  plot  whenever  he  dis 
covered  a  fair  opportunity  of  picking  up  a  delicate  mor. 
sel  of  fun  precisely  suited  to  his  own  palate. 

James  M'Lass  was  fond  of  a  harmless  frolic,  and, 
whenever  he  engaged  in  it,  if  by  preconcert,  he  always 
made  it  a  point  of  honour  to  perform  his  part  in  strict 
obedience  to  the  original  design. 

These  three,  with  six  or  eight  others,  whose  disposi 
tions  it  is  not  necessary  to  mention,  visited  the  village 

of —  in  order  to  attend  the  races  which  were  in 

progress  in  the  vicinity  of  that  place. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  races,  it  was  discovered 
that  the  joint  funds  of  the  whole  fraternity  were  not  suf 
ficient  to  discharge  the  tavern-bills  of  any  two  of  them. 
What  was  to  be  done  in  this  emergency  ?  To  have 
borrowed  would  have  been  extremely  mortifying,  and 
perhaps  a  little  inconvenient ;  to  have  gone  away  with 
out  paying  their  tavern-bills  would  have  been  contrary 
to  the  first  principles  of  Georgia  honour.  They  were 
soon  relieved  from  their  dilemma  by  the  ingenuity  of 
domes. 

During  the  races  a  "Down  Easter"  had  been  exhibit 
ing  wax  figures  in  the  village  ;  and  concluding  that  the 
profits  of  his  business  would  end  with  the  sports  of  the 
turf,  he  had  begun  to  pack  up  his  portables  for  removal 
lo  a  more  eligible  station. 

domes  now  proposed  that  his  company  should  take 
the  places  and  parts  of  the  retiring  figures  ;  or,  to  use 
his  own  expression,  "  should  play  wax-works,"  until 
they  made  enough  to  pay  their  bills.  A  single  night, 
it  was  thought,  would  suffice  fcr  this  purpose. 

The  plan  was  no  sooner  proposed  than  it  was  em 
braced  by  all.  The  room  and  its  furniture  were  en. 
gaged  for  the  evening ;  the  parts  were  cast  without 
difficulty ;  and  each  went  industriously  to  work,  to  fit 
himself  for  the  part  he  was  to  perform. 

Billy  Grossly,  having  the  advantage  of  all  the  rest  in 
height  and  abdominal  rotundity,  was,  by  common  con. 


THE    WAX-WORKS.  181 

seat,  chosen  as  a  proper  representative  of  Daniel  Lam- 
bert,  the  prodigious  Englishman,  who  weighed,  if  I  re. 
member  rightly,  upward  of  six  hundred  pounds.  The 
reader  need  hardly  be  told,  that,  with  all  his  advantages, 
Billy  required  the  aid  of  at  least  eight  pillows,  wit'a 
some  extra  chinking,  as  we  say  in  Georgia,  to  give  hin 
a  bulk  corresponding  with  this  enormous  weight :  no; 
need  he  be  told  that  divers  of  the  most  decent  bag* 
which  the  village  afforded,  wi  ;h  a  small  sheet,  were  pu. 
in  requisition,  to  contain  him  and  his  adjuncts. 

Freedom  Lazenby  was  the  only  one  of  the  company 
who  could,  with  any  propriety,  personify  the  Sleeping 
Beauty  ;  and,  of  course,  this  part  was  assigned  to  him. 
Freedom's  figure  was  quite  too  gross  for  the  beau  ideal 
of  female  symmetry  ;  and  his  face,  though  fine  for  a 
man,  had  rather  too  much  compass  to  represent  na 
ture's  finest  touches  of  female  beauty.  However,  it 
was  soon  perceived  that  a  counterpane  would  hide  the 
defects  of  the  first,  and  a  deep-frilled  cap  would  reduce 
the  last  to  passable  effeminacy.  But  there  were  two 
other  difficulties  which  were  not  so  easily  removed.  It 
is  well  known  that  the  interest  of  the  Sleeping  Beauty  is 
much  enlivened  by  an  exposed  bosom,  by  which  reposes 
a  lovely  infant.  Even  Clomes's  ingenuity  could  not 
supply  these.  A  living  child  would  not  answer ;  for, 
whether  taken  to  the  arms  of  the  Beauty  asleep  or 
awake,  it  would  be  certain  to  give  signs  of  life  before 
the  exhibition  ended ;  and  there  was  not  even  a  toler 
able  manufacturer  of  bosoms  in  the  whole  village. 
There  was  no  alternative ;  the  interest  of  the  spectators 
must  yield  to  the  necessities  of  the  performers  :  it  was 
therefore  determined  that  the  Beauty's  bosom  should 
share  the  fate  of  her  person,  and  be  covered  ;  that  an 
infant  should  be  manufactured  in  the  best  possible  style, 
out  of  rags;  and  that  the  paint-brush  should  suppl) 
the  place  of  wax  for  the  face.  As  there  were  no 
Rnphaels,  Titians,  Wests,  or  DcbufFes  in  the  village, 
the  little  innocent  did  not  come  from  the  hands  of  tne 
artist  with  the  most  perfect  face  imaginable  ;  but  it  w<?« 
Q 


182  THE    WAX- WORKS. 

the  best  that  could  be  given  to  it ;  and,  if  it  wanted  in. 
terest,  that  was  not  the  fault  of  the  company. 

To  James  M'Lass  was  assigned  the  part  of  Miss 
Eliza  Failes,  the  unfortunate  girl  who  was  murdered 
by  her  unnatural  lover,  Jason  Fairbanks ;  and  Clomes 
took  the  part  of  the  murderer. 

ft  was  proposed  to  represent  Miss  Failes  at  the  mo- 
ment  when  the  blood  was  streaming  from  the  lacerated 
throat ;  but  Jemmy  refused  to  personify  her  in  that  con. 
dition,  and  therefore  they  had  to  place  him  in  another 
part  of  the  tragedy.  That  was  selected  in  which  Fair- 
banks  has  his  victim  by  the  hair  with  the  left  hand,  the 
knife  upraised  in  the  right,  in  the  act  of  commencing 
his  work  of  butchery. 

The  other  figures,  being  merely  distinguished  per. 
sonages,  were  easily  represented. 

From  some  cause  unknown,  perhaps  to  invite  visit- 
ers,  or  merely  because,  perhaps,  it  was  a  matter  that 
lay  fully  within  the  range  of  the  company's  art,  they 
resolved  to  exhibit  a  corpse  in  the  antechamber  gratis  ; 
and  Pleasant  Halgroce,  a  jolly  son  of  Bacchus,  kindly 
offered  to  play  this  part.  Every  child  knows  that  a 
plate  of  burning  spirits,  with  a  little  salt  thrown  into  it, 
will  throw  over  the  features  of  a  living  person  all  the 
paleness  and  ghastliness  of  death.  This  was  the  only 
device  used  to  convert  Pleasant's  smirky  red  face  into 
\hat  of  a  corpse. 

All  matters  being  now  arranged,  and  the  performers 
having  practised  their  parts  in  their  new  characters 
until  they  ceased  to  be  ridiculous,  they  all  took  their 
places  after  an  early  supper. 

Before  the  doors  were  opened  to  the  principal  ex. 
hibition,  a  little  incident  occurred  in  the  antecham 
ber  which  suddenly  closed  the  entertainment  in  this 
quarter,  and  had  a  material  bearing  upon  that  in  the 
other. 

Pleasant  Halgroce  had  taken  his  position,  and  was 
playing  a  corpse  to  the  life,  or,  rather,  to  the  death,  a 
number  of  persons  gathered  round  him,  with  becoming 
solemnity  when  a  dumb  man,  who  was  devotedly  at- 


THE    WAX-WORKS.  183 

tached  to  him,  jcined  the  group.  As  soon  as  his  eyra 
fell  upon  the  prostrate  body  of  Pleasant,  he  burst  into 
the  most  piteous  and  unaffected  wailing.  Nothing 
could  restrain  him  from  embracing  his  departed  friend. 
He  approached  him,  and  was  in  the  act  of  bending  over 
him,  to  give  him  affection's  fondest  adieu,  when  a  pretty 
stiff  breeze  from  Pleasant's  lips,  strengthened  by  pre 
vious  suppression,  charged  with  the  fumes  of  about  half 
a  pint  of  brandy,  saluted  the  face  of  the  mourner.  The 
transition  from  grief  to  joy  was  instantaneous  with  the 
poor  mute.  He  rose  in  transports  ;  pointed  to  Pleas- 
ant's  face,  then  to  his  own,  touched  his  nose,  gave  it 
a  significant  curl,  snuffed  gently,  and  then  clapping 
both  hands  to  his  stomach,  he  commenced  inhaling  and 
respiring,  with  all  the  tone  and  emphasis  of  a  pair  of 
blacksmith's  bellows.  Pleasant,  now  perceiving  that 
exposure  was  inevitable,  rose,  and  rushed  upon  the 
dumb  man  with  the  fury  of  a  tiger.  This  sudden 
resuscitation  of  Pleasant  to  life  in  its  most  healthful 
action,  was  as  alarming  to  the  mute  as  his  breathing 
had  been  joyous  ;  and  he  fled,  with  Pleasant  at  his 
heels,  as  though  all  the  tenants  of  the  churchyard  had 
risen  upon  him  at  once. 

Pleasant  had  only  to  resume  his  dress,  and  appear  in 
a  natural  light,  to  pass  unknown  by  all  but  the  initiated; 
for,  aside  from  burning  brandy,  he  was  no  more  like  z, 
corpse  than  a  rose  is  like  a  lily. 

Pleasant,  being  now  out  of  employment,  determined 
to  take  upon  himself  the  part  of  historian  to  the  wax 
figures. 

The  door  leading  to  the  figures  was  no  sooner  open 
ed,  than  several  persons  entered,  and  viewed  them  with 
apparent  satisfaction.  The  spectators  had  increased 
to  the  number  of  eight  or  ten,  when  a  raw-boned, 
awkward,  gawky  son  of  the  forest,  named  Rory  Brush 
wood,  made  his  appearance,  paid  his  money,  and  enter- 
ed.  Pleasant,  of  course,  undertook  to  enrich  his  mind 
with  historic  lore,  while  he  feasted  his  eye  upon  the 
wonders  of  art. 

"  This,"  said  Pleasant,  leading  Rory  up  to  the  Sleep- 


184  THE    WAX-WOBKS. 

ing  Beauty,  "  ia  the  Sleeping  Beauty  :  she  3  given 
up  on  all  hands  to  be  the  prettiest  creature  in  the 
universal  world.  Now  what  woui'i  you  give,  my  old 
Snort,  to  have  as  pretty  a  wife  anc  as  pretty  a  baby  as 
that  ?" 

"  Humph  !"  said  Rory,  "  I  don't  think  she's  so  d — d 
pretty  as  she  mout  be  :  and  as  for  the  baby,  it  looks 
like  a  screech-owl  in  petticoats." 

"  Monstrous  pretty  !  monstrous  pretty  !"  continued 
Pleasant.  "  But  come  here" — hurrying  Rory  off,  lest 
his  remarks  should  wake  the  Sleeping  Beauty — "  come 
here,  and  I'll  show  you  something  that'll  make  your 
hair  rise  like  a  fighting  cat's." 

"  There  !"  continued  he,  pointing  to  Billy  Grossly, 
"just  take  a  squint  at  that  fellow,  will  you :  thatrs  Dan 
iel  Lambert :  he  was  born  in  Nocatchey,  and  war  rais 
ed  upon  nothing  but  grass-nuts  and  sweet  potatoes  ,  and 
just  see  what  he's  come  to  !  He  weighs  nine  hundred 
and  fifty,  dead  weight." 

"  He's  a  whaler !"  said  Rory  ;  "  but  his  face  ?s 
mighty  little  for  his  belly  and  legs." 

"  Oh,"  said  Pleasant,  "  that's  owing  to  the  grass-nuts 
and  potatoes  :  you  know  they  always  puff  up  the  lower 
parts  mightily." 

Nobody  but  Billy  could  have  withstood  this  lecture 
upon  himself  without  a  smile  ;  but  he  passed  it  off  ad 
mirably. 

The  critical  time  was  now  at  hand.  Pleasant  and 
Rory  advanced  in  front  of  Miss  Failes  and  Mr.  Fair- 
banks,  where  they  found  another  visitor  viewing  the 
interesting  couple.  Pleasant  deemed  it  unadvisable  to 
continue  his  lectures  in  the  presence  of  domes  ;  and, 
had  domes  himself  been  equally  prudent,  things  might 
all  have  ended  well  :  but  he  was  not. 

While  the  three  gentlemen  just  named  were  gazing 
on  the  figures  before  them,  Jack  took  it  into  his  head 
to  try  a  little  experiment  upon  Miss  Failes's  muscles, 
through  the  sensibilities  of  her  head  ;  accordingly,  he 
tightened  his  grip  suddenly  upon  her  hair.  Thi 
brought  from  her  a  slight  wince  ;  but  Jack  dk)  not  per 


I'll*.    WAX-WORKS.  18ft 

ceive  it.  Encouraged  by  her  philosophy,  ne  made  a 
second  pull  with  all  the  strength  that  lay  in  the  muscles 
and  sinews  of  his  left  hand. 

This  brought  a  palpable  grin  from  Miss  Failes  ;  and, 
what  was  worse,  in  the  zeal  of  his  experiments  upon 
Jim's  stoicism,  Jack  overacted  his  own  part  a  little. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Rory,  in  a  tone  of  awful  dignity 
and  self-satisfaction,  as  he  turned  gravely  to  the  by 
standers,  "  gentlemen,  it's  flesh  and  blood." 

"  There,"  said  Pleasant,  "  that  just  proves  what  I've 
said  :  that  these  are  the  best  wax-works  that  ever  was 
showed  in  all  these  parts.  It's  most  impossible  to  tell 
'em  from  live  folks." 

"  Gentlemen,"  repeated  Rory,  with  the  same  unruf 
fled  composure,  "  it's  flesh  and  blood.  If  I  didn't  see 
that  fellow  wink,  and  that  woman  squinch  her  face,  then 
hell's  a  dancing  room." 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  said  Pleasant,  "  they're  nothin' 
but  wax  for  all  that :  and,  if  you  don't  b'lieve  me,  just 
feel  that  fellow's  cheek." 

Rory  raised  his  finger  slowly,  as  if  actually  doubting 
the  evidence  of  his  senses,  and  was  just  in  the  act  of 
touching  Jack's  cheek,  when  Jack  snapped  at  his  finger 
like  a  shark,  and  caught  it  between  his  teeth  with  a 
force  most  unreasonable  for  fun. 

The  shock  was  so  unexpected  and  severe,  that  it  com 
pletely  unmanned  Rory  for  the  instant,  and  he  funk 
powerless  upon  the  floor.  He  soon  rose,  however,  and 
rose  with  Miss  Failes's  chair,  which  happened  to  be  va 
cant  just  at  this  moment ;  and  then  (to  use  an  exp^es- 
sion  of  one  of  the  characters),  "  if  ever  you  snw  wax 
works  cut  dirt,  they  cut  it  then." 

Mr.  Fairbanks  was  the  first  to  make  his  escape,  but 
not  without  being  nearly  overtaken  by  the  chair.  Miss 
Failes  followed  next ;  then  General  Washington  «\nd 
other  distinguished  personages,  whose  attitudes  nre. 
pared  them  for  running.  The  Sleeping  Beautv.  ba»ng 
a  little  encumbered  with  bedclothes,  was  rather  slow  in 
retiring  ;  she  was  enough  in  a  hurry  .however,  to  le»ve 
her  little  infant  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  to  Rory's  ra^Q 
Q2 


l«6  A    SAGE    CONVERSATION. 

who,  discovering  its  true  character  just  as  Daniel  Lam 
bert  was  removing  his  feathers  to  another  apartment 
let  him  have  the  baby,  with  all  his  force,  between  the 
shoulders.     As  this  was  only  rags  against  pillows,  Dan- 
icl  escaped  as  free  from  injury  as  the  rest  of  them. 

Rory  now  became  clamorous  for  his  money  ;  but 
the  doorkeeper  was  not  to  be  found  ;  and,  indeed,  claim- 
ed  and  kept  for  his  services  all  that  was  made,  leaving 
the  performers  to  settle  their  bills  as  they  could. 

HALL. 


A  SAGE  CONyERSATlON. 

I  LOVE  the  aged  matrons  of  our  land.  As  a  class, 
they  are  the  most  pious,  the  most  benevolent,  the  most 
useful,  and  the  most  harmless  of  the  human  family. 
Their  life  is  a  life  of  good  offices.  At  home  they 'are 
patterns  of  industry,  care,  economy,  and  hospitality ; 
abroad,  they  are  ministers  of  comfort,  peace,  and  con. 
solation.  Where  affliction  is,  there  are  they  to  miti 
gate  its  pangs ;  where  sorrow  is,  there  are  they  to  as 
suage  its  pains.  Nor  night,  nor  day,  nor  summer's 
heat,  nor  winter's  cold,  nor  angry  elements,  can  deter 
them  from  scenes  of  suffering  and  distress.  They  are 
the  first  at  the  fevered  couch,  and  the  last  to  leave  it. 
They  hold  the  first  and  last  cup  to  the  parched  lip. 
They  bind  the  aching  head,  close  the  dying  eye,  and 
linger  in  the  death-stricken  habitation,  to  pour  the  las* 
drop  of  consolation  into  the  afflicted  bosoms  of  the  be 
reaved.  I  cannot,  therefore,  ridicule  them  myself,  noi 
bear  to  hear  them  ridiculed  in  my  presence.  And  ye* 
I  am  often  amused  at  their  conversations  ;  and  haws 
amused  them  with  a  rehearsal  of  their  own  conversa. 
tions,  taken  down  by  me  when  they  little  dreamed  thai 
I  was  listening  to  them.  Perhaps  my  reverence  for 
their  character,  conspiring  with  a  native  propensity  \o 


A    SiGS   CONVERSATION.  18? 

*\lract  amusement  from  all  that  passes  under  my  ob- 
servation,  has  accustomed  me  to  pay  a  uniformly  strict 
attention  to  all  they  say  in  my  presence. 

This  much  in  extraordinary  courtesy  to  those  who 
cannot  distinguish  between  a  simple  narrative  of  an 
amusing  interview,  and  ridicule  of  the  parties  to  it. 
indeed,  I  do  not  know  that  the  conversation  which  I  am 
about  to  record  will  be  considered  amusing  by  any  of 
my  readers.  Certainly  the  amusement  of  the  readers 
of  rny  own  times  is  not  the  leading  object  of  it,  or  of 
any  of  the  "  Georgia  Scenes  ;"  forlorn  as  may  be  the 
hope  that  their  main  object  will  ever  be  answered. 

When  I  seated  myself  to  the  sheet  now  before  me, 
my  intention  was  merely  to  detail  a  conversation  be 
tween  three  ladies,  which  I  heard  many  years  since  ; 
confining  myself  to  only  so  much  of  it  as  sprung  from 
the  ladies'  own  thoughts,  unawakencd  by  the  sugges 
tions  of  others  ;  but,  as  the  manner  of  its  introduction 
will  perhaps  interest  some  of  my  readers,  I  will  give  it. 

I  was  travelling  with  my  old  friend,  Ned  Brace,  when 
we  stopped  at  the  dusk  of  the  evening  at  a  house  on 
the  roadside  for  the  night.  Here  we  found  three  nice, 
tidy,  aged  matrons,  the  youngest  of  whom  could  not 
have  been  under  sixty ;  one  of  them,  of  course,  was 
the  lady  of  the  house,  whose  husband,  old  as  he  was, 
had  gone  from  home  upon  a  land-exploring  expedition. 
She  received  us  hospitably,  had  our  horses  well  attended 
to,  and  soon  prepared  for  us  a  comfortable  supper. 
While  these  things  were  doing,  Ned  and  I  engaged  the 
other  two  in  conversation  ;  in  the  course  of  which,  Ned 
deported  himself  with  becoming  seriousness.  The  kind 
lady  of  the  house  occasionally  joined  us,  and  became 
permanently  one  of  the  party  from  the  time  the  first 
dish  was  placed  on  the  table.  At  the  usual  hour  we 
were  summoned  to  supper;  and,  as  soon  as  we  were 
seated,  Ned,  unsolicited,  and  most  unexpectedly  to  me, 
said  grace.  I  knew  full  well  that  this  was  a  prelude 
to  some  trick,  I  could  not  conjecture  what.  His  ex 
planation  (excjpt  so  much  as  I  discovered  myself)  was, 
vhat  he  know  that  one  of  us  would  be  asked  to  say 


188  A    SAGE   CONVERSATION. 

grace,  and  he  thought  he  might  as  well  save  the  good 
ladies  the  trouble  of  asking.  The  matter  was,  however, 
more  fully  explained  just  before  the  moment  of  our  re- 
tiring  to  bed  arrived.  To  this  moment  the  conversa- 
tion  went  round  between  the  good  ladies  and  ourselves 
with  mutual  interest  to  all.  It  was  much  enlivened  by 
Ned,  who  was  capable,  as  the  reader  has  been  hereto, 
fore  informed,  of  making  himself  extremely  agreeable 
in  all  company  ;  and  who,  upon  this  occasion,  was  upon 
his  very  best  behaviour.  It  was  immediately  after  I 
had  looked  at  my  watch,  in  token  of  my  disposition  to 
retire  for  the  night,  that  the  conversation  turned  upon 
marriages,  happy  and  unhappy,  strange,  unequal,  run 
aways,  &c.  Ned  rose  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  asked 
the  landlady  where  we  should  sleep.  She  pointed  to 
an  open  shed-room  adjoining  the  room  in  'which  we 
were  sitting,  and  separated  from  it  by  a  log  partition, 
between  the  spaces  of  which  might  be  seen  all  that 
passed  in  the  dining-room  ;  and  so  close  to  the  fire 
place  of  this  apartment,  that  a  loud  whisper  might  be 
easily  heard  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  The  strangest  match,"  said  Ned,  resuming  the 
conversation  with  a  parson's  gravity,  "  that  ever  I 
heard  of,  was  that  of  George  Scott  and  David  Snow : 
two  most  excellent  men,  who  became  so  much  attach. 
ed  to  each  other  that  they  actually  got  married — " 

"  The  lackaday  !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  ladies. 

"  And  was  it  really  a  fact  ?"  inquired  another. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  continued  Ned  ;  "  I  knew  them 
very  well,  and  often  went  to  their  house  ;  and  no  peo. 
pie  could  have  lived  happier  or  managed  better  than 
they  did.  And  they  raised  a  lovely  parcel  of  chil- 
dren  ;  as  fine  a  set  as  I  ever  saw,  except  their  young 
est  son,  Billy  :  he  was  a  little  wild,  but,  upon  the  whole, 
a  right  clever  boy  himself.  Come,  frierd  Baldwin, 
we're  setting  up  too  late  for  travellers."  So  saying, 
Ned  moved  to  the  shed-room,  and  I  followed  him. 

The  ladies  were  left  in  silent  amazement ;  and  Ned, 
suspecting,  doubtless,  that  they  were  listening  for  a 
laugh  from  our  chamber  as  we  entered  it,  continued  the 


A   SAGE   CONVERSATION.  189 

subject  with  unabated  gravity,  thus  :  "  You  knew  those 
two  men,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Wliere  did  they  live  !"  inquired  I,  not  a  little  dis. 
posed  to  humour  him. 

"  Why,  they  lived  down  there,  on  CeJar  Creek,  close 
by  Jacob  Denman's.  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  who  their  daugh 
ter  Nancy  married  :  she  married  John  Clarke  ;  you 
knew  him  very  well." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  I,  "  I  knew  John  Clarke  very  well. 
His  wife  was  a  most  excellent  woman." 

"  Well,  the  boys  were  just  as  clever,  for  boys,  as  she 
was  for  a  girl,  except  Bill ;  and  I  never  heard  anything 
very  bad  of  him,  unless  it  was  his  laughing  in  church ; 
that  put  me  more  out  of  conceit  of  him  than  anything 
I  ever  knew  of  him. — Now,  Baldwin,  when  I  go  to 
bed,  I  go  to  bed  to  sleep,  and  not  to  talk ;  and  there 
fore,  from  the  time  my  head  touches  the  pillow,  there 
must  be  no  more  talking.  Besides,  we  must  take  an 
early  start  to-morrow,  and  I'm  tired."  So  saying,  he 
hopped  into  his  bed,  and  I  obeyed  his  injunctions. 

Before  I  followed  his  example,  I  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  casting  an  eye  through  the  cracks  of  the 
partition,  to  see  the  effect  of  Ned's  wonderful  story 
upon  the  kind  ladies.  Mrs.  Barney  (it  is  time  to  give 
their  names)  was  setting  in  a  thoughtful  posture  ;  her 
left  hand  supporting  her  chin,  and  her  knee  supporting 
her  left  elbow.  Her  countenance  was  that  of  one  who 
suffers  from  a  slight  toothache.  Mrs.  Shad  leaned 
forward,  resting  her  forearm  on  her  knees,  and  looking 
into  the  fire  as  if  she  saw  groups  of  children  playing  in 
it.  Mrs.  Reed,  the  landlady,  who  was  the  fattest  of 
the  three,  was  thinking  and  laughing  alternately  at 
short  intervals.  From  my  bed  it  required  but  a  slight 
change  of  position  to  see  any  one  of  the  group  at 
pleasure. 

I  was  no  sooner  composed  on  my  pillow,  than  the 
old  ladies  drew  their  chairs  close  together,  and  began 
he  following  colloquy  in  a  low  under  tone,  which  rose 
s  it  progressed  : 

Mrs.  Barney.  Didn't  that  man  say  them  was  two 
tuen  tha*.  got  married  to  one  another  ? 


190  A    SAUE    CONVERSATION. 

Mrs.  Shad.  It  seemed  to  me  so. 

Mrs.  Reed.   Why,  lo  be  sure  he  did.     I  know  he 
said  so  ;  for  he  said  what  their  names  was. 
'   Mrs.  B.   Well,  in  the  name  o'  sense,  what  did  the 
man  mean  by  saying  they  raised  a  fine  parcel  of  chil. 
dren  ? 

Mrs.  R.  Why,  bless  your  heart  and  soul,  honey ! 
that's  what  I've  been  thinkin'  about.  It  seems  mighty 
curious  to  me  some  how  or  other.  I  can't  study  it 
out,  no  how. 

Mrs.  S,   The  man  must  be  jokin',  certainly. 

Mrs.  R  No,  he  wasn't  jokin' ;  for  I  looked  at  hirr>, 
and  he  wa^  just  as  much  in  yearnest'as  anybody  I  ever 
seed ;  and  besides,  no  Christian  man  would  tell  such  a 
story  in  that  solemn  way.  And  didn't  you  hear  that 
other  man  say  he  knew  their  da'ter  Nancy  1 

Mrs.  S.  But,  la  messy  !  Mis'  Reed,  it  can't  be  so. 
It  doesn't  stand  to  reason  ;  don't  you  know  it  don't  ? 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  I  wouldn't  think  so  ;  but  it's  hard  for 
me  somehow  to  dispute  a  Christian  man's  word. 

Mrs.  B.  I've  been  thinking  the  thing  all  over  in  my 
r.jind,  and  I  reckon — now  I  don't  say  it  is  so,  for  I  don', 
know  nothing  at  all  about  it — but  I  reckon  that  one 
of  them  men  was  a  woman  dress'd  in  men's  clothes ; 
for  I've  often  hearn  o'  women  doin'  them  things,  and 
following  their  true-love  to  the  wars,  and  bein'  a  wait, 
in'-boy  to  'em,  and  all  sich. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  maybe  it's  some  how  in  that  way  j 
but,  la  me  !  'twould  o'  been  obliged  to  been  found  out ; 
don't  you  know  it  would  ?  Only  think  how  many  chil 
dren  she  had.  Now  it  stands  to  reason,  that  at  some 
time  or  other  it  must  have  been  found  out. 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  I'm  an  old  woman  any  how,  and  I 
reckon  the  good  man  won't  mind  what  an  old  woman 
says  to  him  ;  so,  bless  the  Lord,  if  I  live  to  see  the 
morning,  I'll  ask  him  about  it. 

I  knew  that  Ned  was  surpassed  by  no  man  living  in 
extricating  himself  from  difficulties  ;  but  how  he  was 
to  escape  from  this,  with  even  tolerable  credit  to  him. 
self,  I  could  not  devise. 


A    SAGe.    CONVERSATION.  « 91 

The  ladit^  here  took  leave  of  Ned's  marvellous  sto 
ry,  drew  themselves  closely  round  the  fire,  lighted  their 
pipes,  and  proceeded  as  follows  : 

Mrs.  B.  Jist  before  me  and  my  old  man  was  mar- 
ried,  there  was  a  gal  name  Nancy  Mountcastle  (puff, 
puff),  and  she  was  a  mighty  likely  gal  (puff) ;  I  know'd 
her  mighty  well  ;  she  dressed  herself  up  in  men's 
clothes  (puff,  puff),  and  followed  Jemmy  Darden  from 
P'ankatank,  in  KING  AND  QUEEN  (puff),  clean  up  t3 
LOUDON. 

Mrs.  S.  (puff,  puff,  puff,  puff,  puff).  And  did  he 
marry  her? 

Mrs.  B.  (sighing  deeply).  No :  Jemmy  didn'« 
marry  her  ;  pity  he  hadn't,  poor  thing. 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  I  know'd  a  gal  on  Tar  river  done  the 
same  thing  (puff,  puff,  puff).  She  followed  Moses 
Rusher  'way  down  somewhere  in  the  South  State  (puff, 
puff). 

Mrs.  S.  (puff,  puff,  puff,  puff).     And  what  did  he  do? 

Mrs.  R.  Ah !  (puff,  puff).  Lord  bless  your  soul, 
honey,  I  can't  tell  you  what  he  did.  Bad  enough. 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  now,  it  seems  to  me — I  don't  know 
much  about  it — but  it  seems  to  me,  men  don't  like  to 
marry  gals  that  take  on  that  way.  It  looks  like  it 
puts  'em  out  o'  concait  of  'em. 

Mrs.  S.  I  know'd  one  man  that  married  a  woman 
that  followed  him  from  Car'lina  to  this  state  ;  but  she 
didn't  dress  herself  in  men's  clothes.  You  both  knov» 
'em.  You  know  Simpson  Trotty's  sister  and  Ra. 
chad's  son  Reuben.  'Twas  him  and  his  wife. 

Mrs.  R.  and  Mrs.  B.  Oh  yes,  I  know  'em  mightj 
well. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  it  was  his  wife  ;  she  followed  him 
out  to  this  state. 

Mrs.  B.  I  know'd  'em  all  mighty  well.  Her  da'ter 
Lucy  was  the  littlest  teeny  bit  of  a  thing  when  it  was 
born  I  ever  did  see.  But  they  tell  me  that,  when  I 
was  born — now  I  don't  know  anything  about  it  my. 
self — but  the  old  folks  used  to  tell  me,  that,  when  I 
was  born,  they  put  me  in  a  quart  mug,  and  mought  o' 
covered  me  up  in  it. 


192  A    SAGE    CONVERSATION. 

Mrs.  S.  The  lackaday ! 

Mrs.  R.   What  ailment  did  Lucy  die  of,  Mis  Bai 
ney? 

Mrs.  B.  Why,  first  she  took  the  ager  and  fever,  and 
took  a  'bundance  o'  doctor's  means  for  that.  And 
then  she  got  a  powerful  bad  cough,  and  it  kept  gittin 
worse  and  worse,  till  at  last  it  turned  into  a  consump 
tion,  and  she  jist  nat'ly  wasted  away,  till  she  was  no 
thing  but  skin  and  bone,  and  she  died  ;  but,  poor  crea- 
ter,  she  died  mighty  happy ;  and  I  think,  in  my  heart, 
she  made  the  prettiest  corpse,  considering  of  anybodj 
I  most  ever  seed. 

Mrs.  R.  and  Mrs.  S.  Emph  !  (solemnly). 

Mrs.  R.  What  did  the  doctors  give  her  for  the  fe 
ver  and  ager  ? 

Mm.  B.  Oh,  they  gin'  her  a  'bundance  o'  truck  ;  1 
don't  know  what  all ;  and  none  of  'em  holp  her  at  all. 
But  at  last  she  got  over  it,  some  how  or  other.  If 
they'd  have  just  gin'  her  a  sweat  o'  bitter  yerbs.  jist  as 
the  spell  was  comin'  on,  it  would  have  cured  her  right 
away. 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  I  reckon  sheep-saffron  the  onliest 
thing  in  nater  for  the  ager. 

Mrs.  B.  I've  always  hearn  it  was  wonderful  in 
hives  and  measly  ailments. 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  it's  just  as  good  for  an  ager;  it's  a 
powerful  sweat.  Mrs.  Clarkson  told  me,  that  her 
cousin  Betsy's  aunt  Sally's  Nancy  was  cured  sound 
and  well  by  it,  of  a  hard  shakin'  ager. 

Mrs.  S.  Why,  you  don't  tell  me  so  ! 

Mrs.  R.  Oh,  bless  your  heart,  honey,  it's  every  word 
true  ;  for  she  told  me  so  with  her  own  mouth. 

Mrs.  S.  "  A  hard,  hard  shakin'  ager !  !" 

Mrs.  R.  Oh  yes,  honey,  it's  the  truth. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  I'm  told  that  if  you'll  wrap  the  in- 
side  skin  of  an  egg  round  your  little  finger,  and  go 
three  days  reg'lar  to  a  young  persimmon,  and  tie  a 
string  round  it,  and  every  day  tie  three  knots  in  it,  and 
then  not  go  agin  for  three  days,  that  the  ager  will 
leave  you. 


A    SAGE   CONVERSATION.  193 

jfrs.  B.  I've  often  hearn  o'  that,  but  I  don't  know 
it.  Some  people  don't  believe  in  it. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  Davy  Cooper's  wife  told  me  she 
didn't  believe  in  it ;  but  she  tried  it,  and  it  cured  her 
sound  and  well. 

Mrs.  R.  I've  hearn  of  many  folks  bein'  cured  in 
that  way.  And  what  did  they  do  for  Lucy's  cough, 
Mis'  Barney. 

Mrs.  B.  Oh,  dear  me,  they  gin  her  a  powerful 
chance  o'  truck.  I  reckon,  first  and  last,  she  took  at 
'east  a  pint  o'  lodimy. 

Mrs.  6'.  and  Mrs.  R.  The  law ! 

Mrs.  6.  Why  that  ought  to  have  killed  her,  if  no- 
thing  else.  If  they'd  jist  gin'  her  a  little  cumfry  and 
elecampane,  stewed  in  honey,  or  sugar,  or  molasses, 
with  a  little  lump  o'  mutton  suet  or  butter  in  it,  it 
would  have  cured  her  in  two  days,  sound  and  well. 

Mrs.  B.  I've  always  counted  cumfry  and  alecam- 
pane  the  lead  of  all  verbs  for  colds. 

Mrs.  S.  Horehound  and  sugar's  mazin  good. 

Mrs.  B.  Mighty  good,  mignty  good. 

Mrs.  R.  Powerful  good.  I  take  mightily  to  a  sweat 
of  sage-tea  in  desperate  bad  colds. 

Mrs.  S.  And  ,\o  do  I,  Mis'  Reed.  Indeed,  I  have  a 
great  leanin'  to  sweats  of  yerbs,  in  all  ailments  sich  as 
colds,  and  rheumaty  pains,  and  pleurisies,  and  sich  ; 
they're  wonderful  good.  Old  brother  Smith  came  to 
my  house  from  Bethany  meeting  in  a  mighty  bad  way 
with  a  cold  and  cough,  and  his  throat  and  nose  all  stop 
ped  up ;  seemed  like  it  would  'most  take  his  breath 
away  ;  and  it  was  dead  o'  winter,  and  I  had  nothin'  but 
dried  yerbs,  sich  as  camomile,  sage,  pennyryal,  cat 
mint,  horehound,  and  sich ;  so  I  put  a  hot  rock  to  his 
?eet,  and  made  him  a  large  bowl  o'  catmint  tea,  and  I 
reckon  he  drank  most  two  quarts  of  it  through  the 
night,  and  it  put  him  in  a  mighty  fine  sweat,  and  loos- 
ened  all  the  phleem,  and  opened  all  his  head  ;  and  the 
next  morning,  says  he  to  me,  says  he,  s>ster  Shad — 
you  know  he's  a  mighty  kind  spoken  man,  and  always 
was  so  'fore  he  joined  society  ;  and  the  oH  n?in.  liJ".1* 
R 


"94  A    SAGE    CONVERSATION. 

a  joke  yet  right  well,  the  old  man  does ;  but  he's  a 
mighty  good  man,  and  I  think  he  prays  with  greater 
libity  than  most  any  one  of  his  age  I  most-ever  seed , 
don't  you  think  he  does.  Mis'  Reed? 

Mrs.  R.  Powerful. 

Mrs.  B.   Who  did  he  marry  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Why  he  married — stop,  I'll  tell  you  direct, 
ly.  Why,  what  does  make  my  old  head  forget  so  ? 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  I  don't  remember  liko 
I  used  to.  Didn't  he  marry  a  Ramsbottom  1 

Mrs.  If.  No.  Stay,  I'll  tell  you  who  he  married 
oresently.  Oh,  stay !  why  I'll  tell  you  who  he  mar- 
ried  !  He  married  old  daddy  Johny  Hoocr's  da'tei 
M«urnin'. 

Mrs.  S.  Why,  la !  messy  on  me,  so  he  did ! 

Mrs.  B.   Why,  did  he  marry  a  Hooer  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Why,  to  be  sure  he  did.     You  knew  Mom 
nin'. 

Mrs.  B.  Oh,  mighty  well ;  but  I'd  forgot  that  broth, 
er  Smith  married  her :  I  really  thought  he  married  a 
Ramsbottom. 

Mrs.  R.  Oh  no,  bless  your  soul,  honey,  he  married 
Mournin'. 

Mrs.  B.   Well,  the  law  me,  I'm  clear  beat ! 

Mrs.  S.  Oh,  it's  so,  you  may  be  sure  it  is. 

Mrs.  B.  Emp,  emph,  emph,  emph  !  And  brother 
Smith  married  Mournin'  Hoocr  !  Well,  I'm  clear  pat 
out !  Seems  to  me  I'm  gitlin'  mighty  forgetful,  some 
how. 

Mrs.  S.  Oh  yes,  he  married  Mournin',  and  I  saw 
her  when  she  joined  society. 

Mrs.  B.  Why,  you  don't  tell  me  so ! 

Mrs.  S.  Oh.  it's  the  truth.  She  didn't  join  till  aftei 
she'  was  married,  and  the  church  took  on  mightily 
about  his  marrying  one  out  of  society.  But  after  she 
joined  they  all  got  satisfied. 

Mrs.  R.  Why,  la  !  me,  the  seven  stars  is  'way  ovoi 
here ! 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  let's  light  our  pipes,  and  take  a  short 
smoke,  and  go  to  bed.  How  did  you  come  on  raisiw 
chickens  this  year,  Mis'  Shad  ? 


A    SAGK    CONVERSATION.  195 

Airs.  S.  La  messy,  honey !  I  have  had  mighty  bad 
luck.  I  had  the  prettiest  pa  od  you  most  ever  seed  till 
the  varment  took  to  killin'  'em. 

Mrs.  R.  and  Mrs.  B.  The  varment !  ! 

Mrs.  S.  Oh  dear,  yes.  The  hawk  catched  a  pow 
erful  sight  of  them  ;  and  then  the  varment  took  to  'em. 
and  nat'ly  took  'em  fore  and  aft,  bodily,  till  they  left 
most  none  at  all  hardly.  Sucky  counted  'em  up  t'oth 
er  day,  and  there  warn't  but  thirty-nine,  she  said,  count- 
in'  in  the  old  speckle  hen's  chickens  that  jist  come  off 
of  her  nest. 

Mrs.  R.  and  Mrs.  B.  Humph-h-h-h  ! 

Mrs.  R.  Well,  I've  had  bad  luck  too.  Billy's 
hound-dogs  broke  up  most  all  my  nests. 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  so  they  did  me,  Mis'  Reed.  I  al 
ways  did  despise  a  hound-dog  upon  the  face  of  yea'th. 

Mrs.  R.  Oh,  they're  the  bawllinest,  squallinest, 
thievishest  things  ever  was  about  one  ;  but  Billy  will 
have  'em,  and  1  think  in  my  soul  his  old  Troup's  the 
beat  of  all  creaters  I  ever  seed  in  all  my  born  days  a 
suckin'  o'  hen's  eggs.  He's  clean  most  broke  me  up 
entirely. 

Mrs.  S.  The  lackaday  ! 

Mrs.  R.  And  them  that  was  hatched  out,  some  took 
to  takin'  the  gaps,  and  some  the  pip,  and  one  ailment 
or  other,  till  they  most  all  died. 

Mrs.  S.  Well,  I  reckon  there  must  be  somethin'  in 
the  season  this  year  that  an't  good  for  fowls  :  for  Lar- 
Kin  Goodman's  brother  Jimme's  wife's  aunt  Penny  told 
me,  she  lost  most  all  her  fowls  with  different  sorts  of 
ailments,  the  like  of  which  she  never  seed  before. 
They'd  jist  go  'long  lookin'  right  well,  and  tilt  right 
over  backward  (Mrs.  B.  The  law  !)  and  die  right 
away  (Mrs.  R.  Did  you  ever!),  with  a  sort  o'  some, 
thin'  like  the  blind  staggers. 

Mrs.  B.  and  Mrs.  R.  Messy  on  me  ! 

Mrs.  B.  I  reckon  the)r  must  have  eat  somethin' 
didn't  agivo  with  them. 

Mrs.  S.  No  they  didn't,  for  she  fed  'ern  every  morn 
in'  with  her  own  hand. 


190  A    SAGE    CONVERSATION. 

Mrs.  B>   Well,  it's  mighty  curious ! 

A  short  pause  ensued,  which  was  broken  by  Mrs. 
Barney  with,  "  Arid  brother  Smith  married  Mournin' 
Hooer  !"  It  came  like  an  opiate  upon  my  senses,  and 
I  dropped  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  when  we  rose  from  our  beds,  we 
found  the  good  ladies  sitting  round  the  fire  just  as  1 
left  them,  for  they  rose  long  before  us. 

Mrs.  Barney. was  just  in  the  act  of  ejaculating, 
•'  And  brother  Smith  married  Mournin' — "  when  she 
was  interrupted  by  our  entry  into  the  dining-room. 
We  were  hardly  seated  before  Mrs.  Reed  began  to 

verify  her  promise.     "  Mr.  ,"  said  she  to  Ned, 

'  didn't  you  say  last  night  that  them  was  two  men  that 
got  married  to  one  another  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam,"  said  Ned. 

"  And  didn't  you  say  they  raised  a  fine  pa'cel  of  chil 
dren  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  except  Billy.  I  said,  you  know,  thai 
he  was  a  little  wild." 

"  Well,  yes  ;  I  know  you  said  Billy  wasn't  as  clever 
as  the  rest  of  them.  But  we  old  women  were  talking 
about  it  last  night  after  you  went  out,  and  none  of  ua 
could  make  it  out  how  they  could  have  children ;  and 
I  said,  I  reckoned  you  wouldn't  mind  an  old  woman's 
chat ;  and,  therefore,  that  I  would  ask  you  how  it  could 
be  ?  I  suppose  you  won't  mind  telling  an  old  woman 
how  it  was." 

"  Certainly  not,  madam.  They  were  both  widow. 
ers  before  they  fell  in  love  with  each  other  and  got 
married." 

*'  The  lackaday  !  I  wonder  none  of  us  thought  o' 
that.  And  they  had  children  before  thev  got  mar. 
ried  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam ;  they  had  none  afterwaid  that  I 
heard  of." 

We  were  here  informed  that  our  horses  were  in 
waiting,  and  we  bade  the  good  ladies  farewell. 

BALDWIN. 


THE   SHOOTING-MATCH 


THE  SHOOTING-MATCH. 

SHOOTING-MATCHES  are  probably  nearly  coeval  witn 
the  colonization  of  Georgia.  They  are  still  common 
throughout  the  Southern  States,  though  they  are  not 
as  common  as  they  were  twenty-five  or  thirty  years 
ago.  Chance  led  me  to  one  about  a  year  ago.  I 
was  travelling  in  one  of  the  northeastern  counties, 
when  I  overtook  a  swarthy,  bright-eyed,  smerky  little 
fellow,  riding  a  small  pony,  and  bearing  on  his  shoul 
der  a  long,  heavy  rifle,  which,  judging  from  its  looks, 
I  should  say  had  done  service  in  Morgan's  corps. 

"Good  morning,  sir!"  said  I,  reining  up  my  horse 
as  I  came  beside  him. 

"  How  goes  it,  stranger  ?"  said  he,  with  a  tone  of 
independence  and  self-confidence  that  awakened  my 
curiosity  to  know  a  little  of  his  character. 

"  Going  driving  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  he,  surveying  my  horse  with 
•a  quizzical  smile  ;  "  I  haven't  been  a  driving  by  my 
self  for  a  year  or  two ;  and  my  nose  has  got  so  bad 
lately,  I  can't  carry  a  cold  trail  without  hounds  to  help 
me" 

Alone,  and  without  hounds  as  he  was,  the  question 
was  rather  a  silly  one  ;  but  it  answered  the  purpose 
for  which  it  was  put,  which  was  only  to  draw  him  into 
conversation,  and  I  proceeded  to  make  as  decent  a  re 
treat  as  I  could. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  I,  "  but  that  you  were  going 
to  meet  the  huntsmen,  or  going  to  your  stand." 

"  Ah,  sure  enough,"  rejoined  he,  "  that  mout  be  a 
bee,  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  killed  a  wasp 
It  seems  to  me  I  ought  to  know  you." 

"  Well,  if  you  ought,  why  don't  you  ?" 

"  What  mout  your  name  be?" 

"  It  might  be  anything,"  said  I,  with  borrowed  wit 


I  S3  THE    SIIOOTING-1IATCH. 

for  I  knew  my  man,  and  knew  what  kind  of  conversa 
tion  would  please  him  most. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  then  ?" 

"It  is  Hall,"  said  I;  "but  you  know  it  might  as 
well  have  been  anything  else." 

"  Pretty  digging !"  said  he.  "  I  find  you're  not  the 
fool  I  took  you  to  be ;  so  here's  to  a  better  acquaint 
ance  with  you." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  returned  I  ;  "  but  you  must  be 
as  clever  as  I've  been,  and  give  me  your  name." 

"  To  be  sure  I  will,  my  old  coon  ;  take  it,  take  it, 
and  welcome.  Anything  else  about  me  you'd  like  to 
have  ?" 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  there's  nothing  else  about  you  worth 
having." 

"  Oh,  yes  there  is,  stranger  !  Do  you  see  this  ?" 
holding  up  his  ponderous  rifle  with  an  ease,  that  aston 
ished  me.  "  If  you  will  go  with  me  to  U;e  shooting, 
match,  and  see  me  knock  out  the  bull's-eye  with  her  a 
few  times,  you'll  agree  the  old  Soap. stick's  worth  some 
thing  when  Billy  Curlew  puts  his  shoulder  to  her." 

This  short  sentence  was  replete  with  information  to 
me.  It  taught  me  that  my  companion  was  Billy  Cur 
lew  ;  that  he  was  going  to  a  shooting -match ;  that  he 
called  his  rifle  the  Soap-stick,  and  that  he  was  very 
confident  of  winning  beef  with  her  ;  or,  which  is 
nearly,  but  not  quite  the  same  thing,  driving  the  cross 
with  her. 

"  Well,"  said  I.  "  if  the  shooting-match  is  not  too 
far  out  of  my  way,  I'll  go  to  it  with  pleasure." 

"  Unless  your  way  lies  through  the  woods  from 
here,"  said  Billy,  "  it'll  not  be  much  out  of  your  way ; 
for  it's  only  a  mile  ahead  of  us,  and  there  is  no  other 
road  for  you  to  take  till  you  get  there ;  and  as  that 
thing  you're  riding  in  an't  well  suited  to  fast  travel- 
ling  among  brushy  knobs,  I  reckon  you  won't  lose 
much  by  going  by.  I  reckon  you  hardly  ever  was  at 
a  shooting-match,  stranger,  from  the  cut  of  your  coat  ?'' 

"  Oh  yes,"  returned  I,  "  many  a  time.  I  won  beef 
at  one  when  I  was  hardly  old  enough  to  hold  a  shot- 
g-m  off-hand." 


THE    SHOOTING-MATCH.  199 

**  Children  don't  go  to  shooting-matches  about  here," 
taid  he,  with  a  smile  of  incredulity.  "  I  never  heard 
of  but  one  that  did,  and  he  was  a  little  swinge  cat. 
He  was  born  a  shooting,  and  killed  squirrels  before  he 
was  weaned." 

"Nor  did  /ever  hear  of  but  one,"  replied  I,  "and 
hat  one  was  myself." 

"  And  where  did  you  win  beef  so  young,  stranger?" 

"At  Berry  Adams's." 

"  Why,  stop,  stranger,  let  me  look  at  you  good  !  Is 
your  name  Lyman  Hall  ?" 

"  The  very  same,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  dang  my  buttons,  if  you  an't  the  very  boy 
my  daddy  used  to  tell  me  about.  I  was  too  young  to 
recollect  you  myself;  but  I've  heard  daddy  talk  about 
you  many  a  time.  I  believe  mammy's  got  a  neck- 
handkerchief  now  that  daddy  won  on  your  shooting  at 
Collen  Reid's  store,  when  you  were  hardly  knee  high. 
Come  along,  Lyman,  and  I'll  go  my  death  upon  you  at 
the  shooting-match,  with  the  old  Soap. stick  at  your 
shoulder." 

"  Ah,  Billy,"  said  I,  "  the  old  Soap-stick  will  do 
much  better  at  your  own  shoulder.  It  was  my  moth 
er's  notion  that  sent  me  to  the  shooting-match  at  Berry 
Adams's ;  and,  to  tell  the  honest  truth,  it  was  altogeth 
er  a  chance  shot  that  made  me  win  beef;  but  that 
wasn't  generally  known  ;  and  most  everybody  believed 
that  I  was  carried  there  on  account  of  my  skill  in 
shooting  ;  and  my  fame  was  spread  far  and  wide,  I 
well  remember.  I  remember  too,  perfectly  well,  your 
father's  bet  on  me  at  the  store.  He  was  at  the  shoot- 
ing-match,  and  nothing  could  make  him  believe  but 
that  I  was  a  great  shot  with  a  rifle  as  well  as  a  shot 
gun.  Bet  he  would  on  me,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  say, 
though  I  assured  him  that  I  had  never  shot  a  rifle  in 
my  life.  It  so  happened,  too,  that  there  were  but  two 
bullets,  or,  rather,  a  bullet  and  a  half;  and  so  confi 
dent  was  your  father  in  my  skill,  that  he  made  me 
shoot  the  half  bullet ;  and,  strange  to  tell,  by  another 
chance  shot,  I  like  to  have  drove  the  cross  and  wan 
his  bet." 


.100  THE    SHOOTING-MATCH 

"Now  I  know  you're  the  very  cha^  ,  for  1  heaic* 
daddy  tell  that  very  thing  about  the  half  bullet.  Don'f 
say  anything  about  it,  Lyman,  and  darn  my  old  shoe? 
if  I  don't  tare  the  lint  off  the  boys  with  you  at  the 
shooting-match.  They'll  never  'spect  such  a  looking 
man  as  you  are  of  knowing  anything  about  a  rifle.  I'll 
risk  your  chance  shots." 

I  soon  discovered  that  the  father  had  eaten  som 
grapes,  and  the  son's  teeth  were  oti  edge  ;  for  Billy 
was  just  as  incorrigibly  obstinate  in  his  belief  of  my 
dexterity  with  a  rifle  as  his  father  h<ui  oeen  before  him. 

We  soon  reached  the  place  appointed  for  the  shoot 
ing-match.  It  went  by  the  name  of  Sims's  Cross 
Roads,  because  here  two  roads  intersected  each  other ; 
and  because,  from  the  time  that  the  first  had  been  laid 
out,  Archibald  Sims  had  resided  there.  Archibald  had 
been  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  his  day  (and  where  is 
the  man  of  his  age  in  Georgia  who  has  not  1) ;  conse- 
quently,  he  was  called  'Squire  Sims.  It  is  the  custom 
in  this  state,  when  a  man  has  once  acquired  a  title, 
civil  or  military,  to  force  it  upon  him  as  long  as  he 
lives  ;  hence  the  countless  number  of  titled  persona, 
ges  who  are  introduced  in  these  sketches. 

We  stopped  at  the  'squire's  door.  Billy  hastily  dis 
mounted,  gave  me  the  shake  of  the  hand  which  he  had 
been  reluctantly  reserving  for  a  mile  back,  and,  lead 
ing  me  up  to  the  'squire,  thus  introduced  me  :  "  Uncle 
Archy,  this  is  Lyman  Hall ;  and  for  all  you  see  him  in 
these  fine  clothes,  he's  a  swinge  cat ;  a  darn  sight  clev- 
erer  fellow  than  he  looks  to  be.  Wait  till  you  see 
him  lift  the  old  Soap-stick,  and  draw  a  bead  upon  the 
bull's-eye.  You  gwine  to  see  fun  here  to-day.  Don't 
say  nothing  about  it." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Svvinge-cat,"  said  the  'squire,  "  here'a 
to  a  better  acquaintance  with  you,"  offering  me  his* 
hand. 

"  How  goes  it,  Uncle  Archy  1"  said  I.  taking  his 
hand  warmly  (for  I  am  always  free  and  easy  with 
those  who  are  so  with  me  ;  and  in  this  course  I  rarely 
fail  to  please).  "  How's  the  old  woman  ?" 


THE    SHOOTING-MATCH.  201 

"  Egad,"  said  the  'squire,  chuckling,  "  there  you're 
too  hard  for  me  ;  for  she  died  two-and-twenty  years 
ago,  and  I  haven't  heard  a  word  from  her  since." 

"  What !  and  you  never  married  again  !"' 

"  Never,  as  God's  my  judge  !"  (a  solemn  assevera 
tion,  truly,  upon  so  light  a  subject.) 

"  Well,  that's  not  my  fault." 

"  No,  nor  it's  not  mine  wither,"  said  the  'squire. 

Here  we  were  interrupted  by  the  cry  of  another 
Rancey  Sniffle.  "  Hello,  here  !  All  you  as  wish  to 
put  in  for  the  shoot'n'-match,  come  on  here  !  for  the 
putt'n'  in's  riddy  to  begin." 

About  sixty  persons,  including  mere  spectators,  had 
collected  ;  the  most  of  whom  were  more  or  less  obe 
dient  to  the  call  of  Mealy  Whitecotton,  for  that  was 
the  name  of  the  self-constituted  commander-in-chief. 
Some  hastened  and  some  loitered,  as  they  desired  to  be 
first  or  last  on  the  list ;  for  they  shoot  in  the  order  in 
which  their  names  are  entered. 

The  beef  was  not  present,  nor  is  it  ever  upon  such 
occasions  ;  but  several  of  the  company  had  seen  it, 
who  all  concurred  in  the  opinion  that  it  was  a  good 
beef,  and  well  worth  the  price  that  was  set  upon  it — 
eleven  dollars.  A  general  inquiry  ran  round,  in  or- 
der  to  form  some  opinion  as  to  the  number  of  shots 
that  would  be  taken  ;  for,  of  course,  the  price  of  a 
shot  is  cheapened  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  that 
number.  It  was  soon  ascertained  that  not  more  than 
twenty  persons  would  take  chances  ;  but  these  twenty 
agreed  to  take  the  number  of  shots,  at  twenty. five  cents 
r;ach. 

The  competitors  now  began  to  give  in  their  names  ; 
gome  for  one,  some  for  two,  three,  and  a  few  for  as 
many  as  four  shots. 

Billy  Curlew  hung  back  to  the  last ;  and  \vhen  the 
list  was  offered  him,  five  shots  remained  undisposed  of. 

"  How  many  shots  left  ?"  inquired  Billy. 

"  Five,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  I  take  'em  all.  Put  down  four  shots  to  me, 
and  one  to  Lymar.  Hall,  paid  for  by  William  Curlew." 


20i  THE   SHOOTING-MATCH. 

I  was  thunder-struck  ;  not  at  hfs  proposition  to  pzy 
for  my  shot,  because  I  knew  that  Billy  meant  it  as  a 
token  of  friendship,  and  he  would  have  been  hurt  if  I 
had  refused  to  let  him  do  me  this  favour ;  but  at  the 
unexpected  announcement  of  my  name  as  a  competitor 
for  beef,  at  least  one  hundred  miles  from  the  place  of 
my  residence.  I  was  prepared  for  a  challenge  from 
Billy  to  some  of  his  neighbours  for  a  private  match 
upon  me  ;  but  not  for  this. 

I  therefore  protested  against  his  putting  in  for  me, 
and  urged  every  reason  to  dissuade  him  from  it  that  I 
could,  without  wounding  his  feelings. 

"  Put  it  down  !"  said  Billy,  with  the  authority  of  an 
emperor,  and  with  a  look  that  spoke  volumes  intelligi 
ble  to  every  by-slander.  "  Reckon  I  don't  know  what 
I'm  about  ?"  Then  wheeling  off,  and  muttering  in  an 
under,  self-confident  tone,  "  Dang  old  Roper,"  contin 
ued  he,  "  if  he  don't  knock  that  cross  to  the  north  cor 
ner  of  creation  and  back  again  before  a  cat  can  lick 
her  foot." 

Had  I  been  king  of  the  cat  tribe,  they  could  not 
have  regarded  me  with  more  curious  attention  than  did 
the  whole  -company  from  this  moment.  Every  inch  of 
me  was  examined  with  the  nicest  scrutiny ;  and  some 
plainly  expressed  by  their  looks  that  they  never  would 
have  taken  me  for  such  a  bite.  I  saw  no  alternative  but 
to  throw  myself  upon  a  third  chance  shot ;  for  though, 
by  the  rules  of  the  sport,  I  would  have  been  allowed  to 
shoot  by  proxy,  by  all  the  rules  of  good  breeding  I  was 
bound  to  shoot  in  person.  It  would  have  been  unpar 
donable  to  disappoint  the  expectations  which  had  been 
raised  on  me.  Unfortunately,  too,  for  me,  the  match 
differed  in  one  respect  from  those  which  I  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  attending  in  my  younger  days.  In  olden 
time  the  contest  was  carried  on  chiefly  with  shot-guns, 
a  generic  term  which,  in  those  days,  embraced  three 
descriptions  of  firearms  :  Indian-traders  (a  long,  cheap, 
but  sometimes  excellent  kind  of  gun,  that  mother  Brit- 
Rin  used  to  send  hither  for  traffic  with  the  Indians) 
the  large  musket,  and  the  shot-gun,  properly  so  called 


THE   SHOOTING-MATCH.  203 

Rules  were,  however,  always  permitted  to  compete 
with  them,  under  equitable  restrictions.  These  were, 
that  they  should  be  fired  off-hand,  while  the  shot-guns 
were  allowed  a  rest,  the  distance  being  equal ;  or  that 
the  distance  should  be  one  hundred  yards  for  a  rifle, 
to  sixty  for  the  shot-gun,  the  mode  of  firing  being  equal. 

But  this  was  a  match  of  rifles  exclusively  ;  and  these 
are  by  far  the  most  common  at  this  time. 

Most  of  the  competitors  fire  at  the  same  target ; 
which  is  usually  a  board  from  nine  inches  to  a  foot 
wide,  charred  on  one  side  as  black  as  it  can  be  made 
by  fire,  without  impairing  materially  the  uniformity  of 
its  surface  ;  on  the  darkened  side  of  which  is  pegged  a 
square  piece  of  white  paper,  which  is  larger  or  small 
er,  according  to  the  distance  at  which  it  is  to  be  placed 
from  the  marksmen.  This  is  almost  invariably  sixty 
yards,  and  for  it  the  paper  is  reduced  to  about  two  and 
a  half  inches  square.  Out  of  the  centre  of  it  is  cut  a 
rhombus  of  about  the  width  of  an  inch,  measured  di 
agonally  ;  this  is  the  butt's  eye,  or  diamond,  as  the 
marksmen  choose,  to  call  it :  in  the  centre  of  this  is 
fhe  cross.  But  every  man  is  permitted  to  fix  his  tar- 
get  to  his  own  taste ;  and  accordingly,  some  remove  one 
fourth  of  the  paper,  cutting  from  the  centre  of  the 
square  to  the  two  lower  corners,  so  as  to  leave  a  large 
angle  opening  from  the  centre  downward  ;  while  others 
reduce  the  angle  more  or  less  :  but  it  is  rarely  the 
case  that  all  are  not  satisfied  with  one  of  these  figures. 

The  beef  is  divided  into  five  prizes,  or,  as  they  are 
commonly  termed,  five  quarters — the  hida  and  tallow 
counting  as  one.  For  several  years  after  the  revolu 
tionary  war,  a  sixth  was  added  ;  the  lead  which  was 
shot  in  the  match.  This  was  the  prize  of  the  sixth 
best  shot ;  and  it  used  to  be  carefully  extracted  from 
the  board  or  tree  in  which  it  was  lodged,  and  afterward 
remoulded.  But  this  grew  out  of  the  exigency  of  the 
times,  and  has,  I  believe,  been  long  since  abandoned 
everywhere. 

The  three  master  shots  and  rivals  were  Moses  Firm- 
oy,  Larkin  Spivey,  and  Bir.y  Curlew ;  to  whom  waa 


304  THE    SHOOTING-MATCH. 

added,  upon  this  occasion,  by  common  consent  and  with 
awful  forebodings,  your  humble  servant. 

The  target  was  fixed  at  an  elevation  of  about  three 
feet  from  the  ground  ;  and  the  judges  (Captain  Turner 
and  'Squire  Porter)  took  their  stands  by  it,  joined  by 
about  half  the  spectators. 

The  first  name  on  the  catalogue  was  Mealy  White- 
cotton.  Mealy  stepped  out,  rifle  in  hand,  and  toed  the 
mark.  His  rifle  was  about  three  inches  longer  than 
himself,  and  near  enough  his  own  thickness  to  make 
the  remark  of  Darby  Chislom,  as  he  stepped  out,  toler 
ably  appropriate  :  "  Here  comes  the  corn-stock  and 
the  sucker  !"  said  Darby. 

"  Kiss  my  foot !"  saidiJVlealy.  "  The  way  I'll  creej 
into  that  bull's-eye's  a  fact." 

"  You'd  better  creep  into  your  hind  sight,"  said  Dar 
by.  Mealy  raised  and  fired. 

"  A  pretty  good  shot,  Mealy  !"  said  one. 

"  Yes.  a  blamed  good  shot !"  said  a  second. 

"  Well  done,  Meal !"  said  a  third. 

I  was  rejoiced  when  one  of  the  .company  inquired, 
"  Where  is  it  ?"  for  I  could  hardly  believe  they  were 
founding  these  remarks  upon  the  evidence  of  their 
senses. 

"  Just  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  bull's-eye,"  was 
the  reply. 

I  looked  with  all  the  power  of  my  eyes,  but  was  un 
able  to  discover  the  least  change  in  the  surface  of  the 
paper.  Their  report,  however,  was  true  ;  so  much 
keener  is  the  vision  of  a  practised  than  an  unpractised 
eye. 

The  next  in  order  was  Hiram  Baugh.  Hiram  was 
like  some  race-horses  which  I  have  seen  ;  he  was  too 
good  not  to  contend  for  every  prize,  and  too  good  for 
nothing  ever  to  win  one. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  as  he  came  to  the  mark,  "  1 
don't  say  that  Til  win  beef ;  but  if  my  piece  don't  blow, 
I'll  eat  the  paper,  or  be  mighty  apt  to  do  it,  if  you'll 
b'lieve  my  racket.  My  powder  are  not  good  powder, 
gentlemen  ;  I  bought  it  thum  (from)  Zeb  Daggett,  and 


THE    SHOOTING -MATCH.  205 

giii  him  three  quarters  of  a  dollar  a  pound  for  it ;  but 
it  are  not  what  I  call  good  powder,  gentlemen  ;  hut  if 
old  Buck- killer  burns  it  clear,  the  boy  you  call  Hiram 
Baugh  cat's  paper,  or  comes  mighty  near  it." 

<k  Well,  blaze  away,"  said  Mealy,  "  and  be  d — d  to 
you,  and  Zeb  Daggett,  and  your  powder,  and  Buck- 
killer,  and  your  powder-horn  and  shot-pouch  to  boot ! 
How  long  you  gwine  stand  thar  talking  'fore  you 
shoot  ?" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Hiram,  "  I  can  talk  a  little  and 
shoot  a  little  too  ;  but  that's  nothin'.  Here  goes  !" 

Hiram  assumed  the  figure  of  a  note  of  interrogation, 
took  a  long  sight,  and  fired. 

"  I've  eat  paper,"  said  he,  at  the  crack  of  the  gun, 
without  looking,  or  seeming  to  look,  towards  the  tar 
get.  "  Buck-killer  made  a  clear  racket.  Where  am 
I,  gentlemen  T' 

"You're  just  between  Mealy  and  the  diamond,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  1  said  I'd  eat  paper,  and  I've  done  it ;  haven't  I, 
gentlemen  1" 

"  And  'spose  you  have  !"  said  Mealy,  "  what  do  that 
'mount  to  ?  You'll  not  win  beef,  and  never  did." 

"  Be  that  as  it  mout  be,  I've  beat  Meal  'Cotton  migh 
ty  easy  ;  and  the  boy  you  call  Hiram  Baugh  are  able 
to  do  it." 

"  And  what  do  that  'mount  to  ?  Who  the  devil  an't 
able  to  beat  Meal  'Cotton  !  I  don't  make  no  pretense 
of  bein'  nothin'  great,  no  how  :  but  you  always  makefl 
out  as  if  you  were  gwine  to  keep  'em  makin'  crosses 
for  you  constant,  and  then  do  nothin'  but  '  eat  paper' 
at  last ;  and  that's  a  long  way  from  eatirC  beef,  'cord 
in'  to  Meal  'Cotton's  notions,  as  you  call  him.' 

Simon  Stow  was  now  called  on. 

"  Oh  Lord  !"  exclaimed  two  or  three  :  "  now  we 
have  it.  It'll  take  him  as  long  to  shoot  as  it  would 
take  'Squire  Dobbins  to  run  round  a  track  o'  land." 

"  Good-by,  boys,"  said  Bob  Martin. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Bob?" 
S 


206  THE    SHOOTING-MATCH. 

"  Going  to  gather  in  my  crop  ;  I'll  be  back  agio 
though  by  the  time  Sime  Stow  shoots." 

Simon  was  used  to  all  this,  and  therefore  it  did  not 
disconcert  him  in  the  least.  He  went  off  and  brought 
his  own  target,  and  set  it  up  with  his  own  hand. 

He  then  wiped  out  his  rifle  rubbed  the  pan  with  his 
hat,  drew  a  piece  of  tow  throigh  the  touch-hole  with 
his  wiper,  filled  his  charger  with  great  care,  poured 
the  powder  into  the  rifle  with  equal  caution,  shoved  in 
with  his  finger  the  two  or  three  vagrant  grains  that 
lodged  round  the  mouth  of  his  piece,  took  out  a  hand- 
ful  of  bullets,  looked  them  all  over  carefully,  selected 
one  without  flaw  or  wrinkle,  drew  out  his  patching, 
found  the  most  even  part  of  it,  sprung  open  the  grease- 
box  in  the  breech  of  his  rifle,  took  up  just  so  much 
grease,  distributed  it  with  great  equality  over  the  cho 
sen  part  of  his  patching,  laid  it  over  the  muzzle  of  his 
rifle,  grease  side  down,  placed  his  ball  upon  it,  pressed 
it  a  little,  then  took  it  up  and  turned  the  neck  a  little 
more  perpendicularly  downward,  placed  his  knife  han 
dle  on  it,  just  buried  it  in  the  mouth  of  the  rifle,  cut  off 
the  redundant  patching  just  above  the  bullet,  looked  at 
it,  and  shook  his  head,  in  token  that  he  had  cut  off  too 
much  or  too  little,  no  one  knew  which,  sent  down  the 
Lall,  measured  the  contents  of  his  gun  with  his  first 
and  second  fingers  on  the  protruding  part  of  the  ram 
rod,  shook  his  head  again,  to  signify  there  was  too  much 
or  too  little  powder,  primed  carefully,  placed  an  arch 
ed  piece  of  tin  over  the  hind  sight  to  shade  it,  took  his 
place,  got  a  friend  to  hold  his  hat  over  the  foresight  to 
shade  it,  took  a  very  long  sight,  fired,  and  didn't  even 
eat  the  paper. 

"  My  piece  was  badly  loadned"  said  Simon,  when 
he  learned  the  place  of  his  ball. 

"  Oh,  you  didn't  take  time,"  said  Mealy.  "  No  rnan 
can  shoot  that's  in  such  a  hurry  as  you  is.  I'd  hardly 
got  to  sleep  'fore  I  heard  the  crack  o'  the  gun." 

The  next  was  Moses  Firmby.  He  was  a  tall,  slim 
man,  of  rather  sallcw  complexion  ;  and  it  is  a  singu 
lar  fact,  that  though  probably  no  part  of  the  world  \? 


THE     SHOOTINC.-MATCH.  207 

mure  healthy  than  the  mountainous  parts  of  Georgia, 
the  mountaineers  have  not  generally  robust  frames  or 
fine  complexions  :  they  are,  however,  almost  inexhaust 
ible  by  toil. 

Moses  kept  us  not  long  in  suspense.  His  rifle  was 
already  charged,  and  he  fixed  it  upon  the  target  with  a 
steadiness  of  nerve  and  aim  that  was  astonishing  to  me 
and  alarming  to  all  the  rest.  A  few  seconds,  and  the 
report  of  his  rifle  broke  the  deathlike  silence  which 
prevailed. 

"  No  great  harm  done  yet,"  said  Spivey,  manifestly 
relieved  from  anxiety  by  an  event  which  seemed  to  me 
better  calculated  to  produce  despair.  Firmby's  ball 
had  cut  out  the  lower  angle  of  the  diamond,  directly 
on  a  right  line  with  the  cross. 

Three  or  four  followed  him  without  bettering  his 
shot;  all  of  whom,  however,  with  one  exception,  "eat 
the  paper." 

It  now  came  to  Spivey's  turn.  There  was  nothing 
remarkable  in  his  person  or  manner.  He  took  his 
place,  lowered  his  rifle  slowly  from  a  perpendicular 
until  it  came  on  a  line  with  the  mark,  held  it  there  like 
a  vice  for  a  moment,  and  fired. 

"Pretty  sevigrous,  but  nothing  killing  yet,"  said 
Billy  Curlew,  as  he  learned  the  place  of  Spivey's  ball. 

Spivey's  ball  had  just  broken  the  upper  angle  of  the 
diamond  ;  beating  Firmby  about  half  its  width. 

A  few  more  shots,  in  which  there  was  nothing  re 
markable,  brought  us  to  Billy  Curlew.  Billy  stepped 
out  with  much  confidence,  and  brought  the  Soap-stick 
to  an  order,  while  he  deliberately  rolled  up  his  shirt 
sleeves.  Had  I  judged  of  Billy's  chance  of  success 
from  the  looks  of  his  gun,  I  should  have  said  it  was 
hopeless.  The  stock  of  Soap-stick  seemed  to  have 
been  made  with  a  case-knife  ;  and  had  it  been,  the  tool 
wouli  have  been  but  a  poor  apology  for  its  clumsy  ap 
pearance.  An  auger-hole  in  the  breech  served  for  a 
grease-box ;  a  cotton  string  assisted  a  single  screw  in 
holding  on  the  lock  ;  and  the  thimbles  we~e  made,  one 
of  brass,  one  of  iron,  and  one  of  tin. 


208  THE    SHOOTING-MATCH. 

"  Where's  Lark  Spivey's  bullet  ?"  called  out  Bill_y  :o 
the  judges,  as  he  finished  rolling  up  his  sleeves. 

"  About  three  quarters  of  an  inch  from  the  cross," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  clear  the  way  !  the  Soap-stick's  coming,  and 
she'll  be  along  in  there  among  'em  presently." 

Billy  now  planted  himself  astraddle,  like  an  inverted 
V  ;  shot  forward  his  left  hip,  drew  his  body  back  to  an 
angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees  with  the  plane  of  the 
horizon,  brought  his  cheek  down  close  to  the  breech 
of  old  Soap-stick,  and  fixed  her  upon  the  mark  with 
untrembling  hand.  His  sight  was  long,  and  the  swell- 
ing  muscles  of  his  left  arm  led  me  to  believe  that  he 
was  lessening  his  chance  of  success  with  every  half 
second  that  he  kept  it  burdened  with  his  ponderous 
rifle  ;  but  it  neither  nagged  nor  wavered  until  Soap- 
stick  made  her  report. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  said  Billy,  as  the  smoke  rose  from 
before  his  eye. 

"  You've  jist  touched  the  cross  on  the  lower  side," 
was  the  reply  of  one  of  the  judges. 

"  I  was  afraid  I  was  drawing  my  bead  a  leetle  too 
fine,"  said  Billy.  "  Now,  Lyman,  you  see  what  the 
Soap-stick  can  do.  Take  her,  and  show  the  boys  how 
you  used  to  do  when  you  was  a  baby." 

I  begged  to  reserve  my  shot  to  the  last ;  pleading, 
rather  sophistically,  that  it  was,  in  point  of  fact,  one  of 
Billy's  shots.  My  plea  was  rather  indulged  than  sus 
tained,  and  the  marksmen  who  had  taken  more  than 
one  shot  commenced  the  second  round.  This  round 
was  a  manifest  improvement  upon  the  first.  The 
cross  was  driven  three  times :  once  by  Spivey,  once 
by  Firmby,  and  once  by  no  less  a  personage  than  Mea 
ly  Whitecotton,  whom  chance  seemed  to  favour  for 
this  time,  merely  that  he  might  retaliate  upon  Hiram 
Baugh  ;  and  the  bull's-eye  was  disfigured  out  of  all 
shape. 

The  third  and  fourth  rounds  were  shot.  Billy  dis 
charged  his  last  shot,  which  left  the  rights  of  parties 
*hus  :  Billy  Curled  first  and  fourth  choice,  Spivey  sec. 


THE    SHOOTING-MATCH.  209 

ond,  Firmby  third,  and  Whitecotton  fifth.  Some  of 
my  readers  may  perhaps  be  curious  to  learn  how  a  dis. 
tinction  comes  to  be  made  between  several,  all  of  whom 
drive  the  cross.  The  distinction  is  perfectly  natural 
and  equitable.  Threads  are  stretched  from  the  unef. 
faced  parts  of  the  once  intersecting  lines,  by  means  of 
which  the  original  position  of  the  cross  is  precisely  as- 
certained.  Each  bullet-hole  being  nicely  pegged  up 
as  it  is  made,  it  is  easy  to  ascertain  its  circumference. 
To  this  I  believe  they  usually,  if  not  invariably,  meas 
ure,  where  none  of  the  balls  touch  the  cross  ;  but  if 
the  cross  be  driven,  they  measure  from  it  to  the  centre 
of  the  bullet-hole.  To  make  a  draw  shot,  therefore, 
between  two  who  drive  the  cross,  it  is  necessary  that 
the  centre  of  both  balls  should  pass  directly  through 
the  cross  ;  a  thing  that  very  rarely  happens. 

The  Bite  alone  remained  to  shoot.  Billy  wiped  out 
his  rifle  carefully,  loaded  her  to  the  top  of  his  skill,  and 
handed  her  to  me.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  Lyman,  draw 
a  fine  bead,  but  not  too  fine  ;  for  Soap-stick  bears  up 
her  ball  well.  Take  care  and  don't  touch  the  trigger 
until  you've  got  your  bead  ;  for  she's  spring-trigger'd, 
and  goes  mighty  easy  :  but  you  hold  her  to  the  place 
you  want  her,  and  if  she  don't  go  there,  dang  old  Ro 
per." 

I  took  hold  of  Soap-stick,  and  lapsed  immediately 
into  the  most  hopeless  despair.  I  am  sure  I  never 
handled  as  heavy  a  gun  in  all  my  life.  "  Why,  Billy," 
said  I,  "  you  little  mortal,  you  !  what  do  you  use  such 
a  gun  as  this  for?" 

"  Look  at  the  bull's-eye  yonder!"  said  he. 

"  True,"  said  I,  "  but  /  can't  shoot  her  ;  it  is  im. 
possible." 

"  Go  'long,  you  old  coon  !"  said  Billy  ;  "  I  see  what 
you're  at ;"  intimating  that  all  this  was  merely  to  make 
the  coming  shot  the  more  remarkable  ;  "  Daddy's  little 
boy  don't  shoot  anything  but  the  old  Soap-stick  here 
to-day,  I  know." 

The  judges,  I  knew,  were  becoming  impatient,  and, 
«ithal,  my  situation  was  growing  more  embarrassing 
S  2 


210  THE    SHOO  n.\G -MATCH. 

every  second  ;  so  I  e'en  resolved  to  try  the  Soap-sticfc 
without  farther  parley. 

I  stepped  out,  and  the  most  intense  interest  was  ex« 
cited  all  around  me,  and  it  flashed  like  electricity 
around  the  target,  as  I  judged  from  the  anxious  gaze 
of  all  in  that  direction. 

Policy  dictated  that  I  should  fire  with  a  falling  rifle, 
and  I  adopted  this  mode  ;  determining  to  fire  as  soon 
as  the  sights  came  on  a  line  with  the  diamond,  lead  or 
no  lead.  Accordingly,  I  commenced  lowering  old 
Soap-stick  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  my  muscular  powers, 
she  was  strictly  obedient  to  the  laws  of  gravitation, 
and  came  down  with  a  uniformly  accelerated  velocity. 
Before  I  could  arrest  her  downward  flight,  she  had  not 
only  passed  the  target,  but  was  making  rapid  encroach 
ments  on  my  own  toes. 

"  Why,  he's  the  weakest  man  in  the  arms  I  ever 
seed,"  said  one,  in  a  half  whisper. 

"  It's  only  his  fun,"  said  Billy  ;  "I  know  him." 

"  It  may  be  fun,"  said  the  other,  "  but  it  looks  might 
ily  like  yearnest  to  a  man  up  a  tree." 

I  now,  of  course,  determined  to  reverse  the  mode  of 
firing,  and  put  forth  all  my  physical  energies  to  raise 
Soap. stick  to  the  mark.  The  effort  silenced  Billy,  and 
gave  tongue  to  all  his  companions.  I  had  just  strength 
enough  to  master  Soap. stick's  obstinate  proclivity,  and, 
consequently,  my  nerves  began  to  exhibit  palpable  signs 
of  distress  with  her  first  imperceptible  movement  up 
ward.  A  trembling  commenced  in  my  arms  ;  in 
creased,  and  extended  rapidly  to  my  body  and  lower 
extremities  ;  so  that,  by  the  time  that  I  had  brought 
Soap-stick  up  to  the  mark,  I  was  shaking  from  head  to 
foot,  exactly  like  a  man  under  the  contisued  action  of  a 
strong  galvanic  battery.  In  the  mean  time  my  friendg 
gave  vent  to  their  feelings  freely. 

"  I  swear  poin'  blank,"  said  one,  "  that  man  can't 
shoot." 

"  He  used  to  shoot  well,"  said  another  ;  "  but  can't 
now,  nor  never  could." 

"  You  better  git  away  from  'bout  that  mark !"  bawled 


THE    SHOOTING -MATCH.  21 1 

a  third,  "  for  I'll  be  dod  darned  if  Broadcloth  don't 
give  some  of  you  the  dry  gripes  if  you  stand  too  close 
thare." 

"  The  stranger's  got  the  peedoddles,"*  said  a  fourth, 
with  humorous  gravity. 

"  If  he  had  bullets  enough  in  his  gun,  he'd  shoot  a 
ring  round  the  bull's-eye  big  as  a  spinning  wheel,"  said 
a  fifth. 

As  soon  as  I  found  that  Soap-stick  was  high  enough 
(for  I  made  no  farther  use  of  the  sights  than  to  ascer 
tain  this  fact),  I  pulled  trigger,  and  off  she  went.  1 
have  always  found  that  the  most  creditable  way  of  re- 
lieving  myself  of  derision  was  to  heighten  it  myself  as 
much  as  possible.  It  is 'a  good  plan  in  all  circles,  but 
by  far  the  best  which  can  be  adopted  among  the  plain, 
rough  farmers  of  the  country.  Accordingly,  I  brought 
old  Soap-stick  to  an  order  with  an  air  of  triumph  ;  tip. 
ped  Billy  a  wink,  and  observed,  "  Now,  Billy,  's  your 
time  to  make  your  fortune.  Bet  'em  two  to  one  that 
I've  knocked  out  the  cross." 

"  No,  I'll  be  dod  blamed  if  I  do,"  said  Billy  ;  «  but 
I'll  bet  you  two  to  one  you  han't  hit  the  plank." 

"  Ah,  Billy,"  said  I,  "  I  was  joking  about  betting,  for 
I  never  bet ;  nor  would  I  have  you  to  bet :  indeed,  I 
do  not  feel  exactly  right  in  shooting  for  beef;  for  it  is  a 
species  of  gaming  at  last :  but  I'll  say  this  much  :  if 
that  cross  isn't  knocked  out,  I'll  never  shoot  for  beef 
again  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  By  dod,"  said  Mealy  Whitecotton,  "you'll  lose  no 
great  things  at  that." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  reckon  I  know  a  little  about  wab- 
bling.  Is  it  possible,  Billy,  a  man  who  shoots  as  well 
as  you  do,  never  practised  shooting  with  the  double 
wabble  ?  It's  the  greatest  take  in  in  the  world  when 
you  learn  to  drive  the  cross  with  it.  Another  sort  for 

*  This  word  was  entirely  new  to  me  ;  but  like  most,  if  not  all 
words  in  use  among  the  common  people,  it  is  doubtless  3  '.egitimate 
English  word,  or,  rather,  a  compound  of  two  words,  the  last  a  little 
corrupted,  and  was  very  aptly  applied  in  this  instance.  It  is  a  com 
pound  of  •  pee"  to  peep  with  one  eye.  and  ''-diddle"  to  totter  01 
wabbls. 


212  THE    SHOOTING-MATCH. 

getting  bets  upon,  to  the  drop-sight,  with  a  single  wab 
ble  !     And  the  Soap-stick's  the  very  yarn  for  it." 

"  Tell  you  what,  stranger,"  said  one,  "  you're  to* 
hard  for  us  all  here.  We  never  hearn  o'  that  sort  o 
shoot'n'  in  these  parts." 

"  Well,"  returned  I,  "  you've  seen  it  now,  and  I'm 
the  boy  that  can  do  it." 

The  judges  were  now  approaching  with  the  target, 
and  a  singular  combination  of  circumstances  had  kept 
all  my  party  in  utter  ignorance  of  the  result  of  my  shot. 
Those  about  the  target  had  been  prepared  by  Billy 
Curlew  for  a  great  shot  from  me  ;  their  expectations 
had  received  assurance  from  the  courtesy  which  ha6 
been  extended  to  me ;  and  nothing  had  happened  to  dis 
appoint  them  but  the  single  caution  to  them  against  the 
"  dry  gripes,"  which  was  as  likely  to  have  been  given 
in  irony  as  in  earnest ;  for  my  agonies  under  the 
weight  of  the  Soap-stick  were  either  imperceptible  to 
them  at  the  distance  of  sixty  yards,  or,  being  visible, 
were  taken  as  the  nourishes  of  an  expert  who  wished 
to  "  astonish  the  natives."  The  other  party  did  not 
think  the  direction  of  my  ball  worth  the  trouble  of  a 
question  ;  or  if  they  did,  my  airs  and  harangue  had  put 
the  thought  to  flight  before  it  was  delivered.  Conse 
quently,  they  were  ail  transfixed  with  astonishment 
when  the  judges  presented  the  target  to  them,  and 
gravely  observed,  "  It's  only  second  best,  after  all  the 
fuss." 

"Second  best!"  exclaimed  I,  with  uncontrollable 
transports. 

The  whole  of  my  party  rushed  to  the  target  t& 
have  the  evidence  of  their  senses  before  they  would 
believe  the  report :  but  most  marvellous  fortune  de- 
creed  that  it  should  be  true.  Their  incredulity  and 
astonishment  were  most  fortunate  for  me  ;  for  they 
blinded  my  hearers  to  the  real  feelings  with  which  the 
exclamation  was  uttered,  and  allowed  me  sufficient  time 
to  prepare  myself  for  making  the  best  use  of  what  I  had 
said  before  with  a  very  different  object. 

"Second  best!"  reiterated  T,  wlf.h  an  air  of  despond 


THE    SHOOTING-MATCH.  21 S 

ency,  as  the  company  turned  from  the  target  to  me. 
"  Second  best  only  ?  Here,  Billy,  my  son,  take  the  old 
Soap-stick  ;  she's  a  good  piece,  but  I'm  getting  too  old 
and  dimsighted  to  shoot  a  rifle,  especially  with  the 
drop-sight  and  double  wabbles." 

"  Why,  good  Lord  a'mighty  !"  said  Billy,  with  a 
look  that  baffles  all  description,  "  an't  you  driv  the 
cross  '" 

"  Oh,  driv  the  cross !"  rejoined  I,  carelessly.  "  What's 
that !  Just  look  where  my  ball  is  !  I  do  believe  in  my 
soul  its  centre  is  a  full  quarter  of  an  inch  from  the 
cross.  I  wanted  to  lay  the  centre  of  the  bullet  upon 
the  cross,  just  as  if  you'd  put  it  there  with  your  fin- 
gers." 

Several  received  this  palaver  with  a  contemptuous 
but  very  appropriate  curl  of  the  nose  ;  and  Mealy 
Whitecotton  offered  to  bet  a  half  pint  "  that  I  couldn't 
do  the  like  again  with  no  sort  o'  wabbles,  he  didn't 
care  what."  But  I  had  already  fortified  myself  on  this 
quarter  by  my  morality.  A  decided  majority,  how- 
ever,  were  clearly  of  opinion  that  I  was  serious  ;  and 
they  regarded  me  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world. 
Billy  increased  the  majority  by  now  coming  out  fully 
with  my  history,  as  he  had  received  it  from  his  father ; 
to  which  I  listened  with  quite  as  much  astonishment  as 
any  other  one  of  his  hearers.  He  begged  me  to  go 
home  with  him  for  the  night,  or,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  to 
go  home  with  him  and  swap  lies  that  night,  and  it 
shouldn't  cost  me  a  cent ;"  the  true  reading  of  which 
is,  that  if  I  would  go  home  with  him,  and  give  him  the 
pleasure  of  an  evening's  chat  about  old  times,  his  house 
should  be  as  free  to  me  as  my  own.  But  I  could  not 
accept  his  hospitality  without  retracing  five  or  six  miles 
of  the  road  which  I  had  already  passed,  and  therefore 
I  declined  it. 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  go,  what  must  I  tell  the  old 
woman  for  you  ?  for  she'll  be  mighty  glad  to  hear  from 
the  boy  that  won  the  silk  handkerchief  for  her,  and  1 
expect  she'll  Ibk  me  for  not  bringing  you  home  wif> 
me." 


214  THE    SHOOTING. riATCH. 

"  Te,  *er.s  said  I,  "  that  I  send  her  a  quarter  of  beef 
which  I  vron,  ts  I  did  the  handkerchief,  by  nothing  ip 
'tie  world  out  mere  good  luck." 

"  Hold  your  law,  Lyman !"  said  Bitty ;  "I an't  a  gwine 
to  tell  the  old  woman  any 'such  lies  ;  for  she's  a  raei 
reg'lar  built  Metn'dist." 

As  I  turned  to  depart,  "  Stop  a  minute,  stranger  !' 
said  one  :  then  lowering  his  voice  to  a  confidential  but 
distinctly  audible  tone,  "  What  you  offering  for?"  con 
tinued  he.  I  assured  him  I  was  not  a  candidate  for 
anything  ;  that  1  had  accidentally  fallen  in  with  Billy 
Curlew,  who  begged  me  to  come  with  him  to  the  shoot- 
ing-match,  and,  as  it  lay  right  on  my  road,  I  had  stop, 
ped.  "  Oh,"  said  ne>  with  a  conciliatory  nod,  "  if  you're 
up  for  anything,  you  needn't  be  mealy-mouthed  about 
it  'fore  us  boys  ;  for  we'll  all  go  in  for  you  here  up  to 
the  handle."' 

"Yes,"  said  Bnfy,  "dang  old  Roper  if  we  don't 
go  our  death  for  you,  no  matter  who  offers.  If  ever 
you  come  out  for  anything,  Lyman,  jist  let  the  boys 
of  Upper  Hogthief  know  it,  and  they'll  go  for  you 
to  the  hilt,  against  creation,  tit  or  no  tit,  that's  the 
tatur." 

I  thanked  them  kindly,  but  repeated  my  assurances. 
The  reader  will  not  suppose  that  the  district  took  its 
name  from  the  character  of  the  inhabitants.  In  almost 
every  county  in  the  state  there  is  some  spot  or  district 
which  bears  a  contemptuous  appellation,  usually  derived 
from  local  rivalships,  or  from  a  single  accidental  cir. 
cumstance. 

HALL. 


THE    END 


Harper's  Catalogue. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


C.  1   ••» 


<$T 

05W78WDAY 
06NOV78RECCL 


Book  Slip — Series  4280 


Hill 
A    001  322  060    3 


L  006  631   786  8 


